What If?
by Leedle-leedle-lee
Summary: What if Lily and James could follow Harry after they died? What if Hermione was the one person able to see them? What if she became Draco's friend and Cedric's breakfast partner? What if ballet became the bridge between the living and the dead? What if Vernon was taken out of the equation, as well as Ron? What if Neville was given a chance? What if this fic was finally updated?
1. There Are Secrets the Dead Must Hold

**I read a story where James and Lily could follow Harry through his life - thought I'd take a shot at it. I hope it turns out well...**

**As for those of you who've ever so faithfully stuck by my side for the no doubt infuriating time I've been off the radar: My most sincere apologies. The best defense I have is that I was moved to the other side of the country, homeless for six months afterword, and sharing an apartment with various strange men-slash-couch-surfing-bums-with-no-right-to-cont inue-to-loiter-around for the time after that. Excuses, I know, but still.**

**Disclaimer: Did you just read the above paragraph? Does that much sound like JKR to you? **

**This was remastered Aug. 30th, 2012.**

* * *

If you were to ask anyone in the Wizarding World if James and Lily Potter were dead they would give you a suitably insulted glare (for the Potters were something of a touchy subject in the Wizarding World) and answer, "Yes." Plain and simple.

Yes, they were dead - as in their bodies were six feet under.

But... In a way...

The answer could be: "No, they weren't."

You see, since they were killed when their son was one and a half, they were given a choice. This choice wasn't offered often - but when it was, people jumped for it. Their choice, given by whatever God you can conceive, was to follow their son through his life. His entire life. Every minute, hour, day, and year.

They mourned for him through his lonely school years, being bullied continually. Squealed for him when he got his Hogwarts letter. Followed Hagrid and him through Diagon Alley. Cringed as Hagrid left him to Lily's horrible relatives again. Observed his Sorting ("I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT BLOODY HAT EVEN THOUGHT OF PUTTING MY SON IN SLYTHERIN!"). Saw his first months at his new school, the one that was becoming a home for him.

They were always watching their son with pride and love. Pride for living through his Aunt and Uncle for so long, and love for his stubborn will to survive, even if he was (to quote James) "being treated like a bug repeatedly stomped on by a rather portly elephant".

There was one catch to this setup. These two could _in no way_ communicate to their son.

As soon as they did, they would fade away. Become nothing more than two more people existing in whatever heaven may or may not be out there, maybe struggling through some gruesome form of Limbo, if they revealed too much. There _are_ secrets the dead must hold, and never give to the living.

None the less, they wouldn't ever get to see their son grow up any farther. Love. Learn. See. Live. Hate. Hurt.

Nothing.

And so they watched, desperate to talk - communicate - _something_ - with their son, yet knowing they never would.

* * *

**I just felt it needed some more umph. A reason why they can't say 'YO, HARRY! WE'RE RIGHT HERE! HERMIONE CAN SEE US! C'MON, SON! LOOK OVER HERE!', y'know?**

**Leedles & a Lee or two.**


	2. Deodorant for Trolls

**Revised for a second time. As you peoples who've read this in the original version can see, I took a large chunk of this story out, but that's because it was basically useless.**

**Disclaimer: ... Hello. I don't believe my name has a 'J', 'K', or a 'R' anywhere in it...**

**Revised a third time on August 30th, 2012.**

* * *

It was Halloween, and Ronald Weasley was not having a good day. He'd gotten up too late to shove much more than six pancakes and a half gallon of pumpkin juice down his throat before heading to Charms.

Where he was paired up with Hermione bloody Granger.

Yes, it was Halloween, and Ronald Weasley was not having a good day. And so when _Hermione Granger_, the aggravating know-it-all, told him he was pronouncing his incantation wrong, he got angry. And that is why, as Harry and he shuffled to their next class, he made sure to insult her as loudly as he could.

There was the sound of soft crying, and then she swept by. Harry watched her leave, somewhat amazed when she used one of her beloved books to beat off an annoying Malfoy as he strutted by to ever so politely offer a taunt. She hit him square in the face, leaving the snob stunned and somewhat respecting.

"I believe she heard you, Ron," Harry told his, admittedly, dumb friend.

"Obviously."

Neville was watching where Hermione had disappeared off to with wide eyes, and seemed to be having an internal battle with himself. No one but Lily noticed. And the redhead cooed at him and said that he was just like Alice before telling Harry off. James was appalled of his son's behavior. Sure, he didn't like the girl, but that is just no way you treat anyone - but a Slytherin. Of course.

Harry and Ron promptly forgot about her by the time they got to a new class. Lily was livid.

Lily was quite able to scold her son all through the rest of the day, and had been in the middle of a new rant as Quirrel ran into the room at dinner, screaming his little turban off about trolls. On and on Lily continued, not even noticing the dude with Voldemort strapped to the back of his head nearly get trampled to death by frantic school children. "... and, honestly, Harry James Potte - "

James took a step back from his wife. "Lily," he said soothingly, "he's only eleven. He'll wake up."

And he was proven quite right. When Quirrel came barreling through the Great Hall, Harry was the first to think about Hermione, who, having been in the bathroom, had no idea about the troll.

"Very good, Harry," Lily said, smiling at her son and seeming to forget about her dedication to ranting until her voice gave out.

Ron reluctantly followed his friend to the girls' bathrooms. They soon found both the troll, who was intent on killing the girl, and Hermione, who was screaming very loudly as it brought down its club dangerously close to her head.

"HERMIONE, MOVE!" yelled Harry, already in motion to stop the troll. The motion wasn't very helpful, and only got him hanging by his ankles and nearly suffocating from the troll's armpit stench. Had the thing ever heard of deodorant?

It was Ron, surprisingly, who saved both Harry and Hermione. Yeah, all of you were so surprised.

After that, they were close friends, the three of them. James didn't mind – she, for all of her insufferable knowledge, was starting to grow on him. Reluctantly, he admitted that she reminded him of Lily when she was younger. Lily herself was simply ecstatic that Harry had finally come to his senses after almost two months of ignoring the poor girl.

"I mean really," she said to her husband a few days later, "she is one of the most forgiving children I've ever seen. The boys were horrible to her, and she forgave them as easy as one, two, three."

James just sighed and went back to watching his son practice Quiddich. As much as he loved his wife, she had the tendency to be repetitive, and sometimes, he just couldn't deal well with it. Lily, noticing her husband's preoccupation, glared at nothing in particular and pulled out a book.

* * *

**This chapter has been revised by your current Authoress.**

**Drop me a review if you like.**


	3. Strong, Stable, Dependable, Know-It-All

**Disclaimer: Eeeep! Lookie! Voldie's standing behind you! Scroll past this and he'll let you live!**

**Revised on August 30th, 2012.**

* * *

The day after the troll incident was Harry's first Quidditch match. When he'd finally willed himself out of bed and down to the Great Hall, he'd become too nervous to imagine chewing food.

Which didn't stop Hermione from trying to get him to eat. This trying went from subtle nudges (Harry was 'nudged' from his seat only once, and managed to dodge the next few elbows to the ribcage), to questioning ("Hey Harry, do today's eggs taste particularly delicious to you? Oh, you haven't tried any? Well you simply _must_!"), to demanding ("Eat. Now."), and finally she just pouted until he couldn't take it anymore (James was proud to know that his signature move had not decreased in potency for the decade he'd been 'out of commission').

And so he ate a piece of toast before being whisked to the match.

"You'll be fine, Harry!" Hermione called after him.

He didn't seem to notice.

"The blind son of mine is deaf too," the red-headed woman sighed to herself before following her husband and son to the stadium. The two walking dead split off to find a seat near their offspring's two friends. About half-way throughout the game, Hagrid joined them, Flint nearly threw Harry off of his broom, and then said broom began to lurch drunkenly before trying desperately to shake its rider off.

Hermione squeaked and quickly took Hagrid's binoculars before disappearing into the stands. James and Lily followed her - to the underside of the teacher's stands.

Lily was a touch astounded by her spellwork, while James was just happy she'd set Snape of all people on fire. Even in the after life, he hated Snape with a passion. On an unrelated note, James started liking Hermione much more after that.

Harry continued on now that his broom was not attempting to kill him, and eventually succeeded in swallowing the snitch. When he coughed it back into open air, he'd been congratulated by 3/4 of the school.

The trio headed down to Hagrids soon after the game; where the half-giant slipped up about Nicolas Flamel. immediately, Hermione left for the library to search for the man. It was her personal motto: When in doubt, go to the library.

* * *

The weeks went by slowly. James soon took to following the Weasley Twins, laughing delightedly whenever a prank would work out. Lily had long since stopped bothering with trying to get him to focus single mindedly on their son - it was rather boring at times, even she would admit - and instead left him to his own dastardly devices.

One afternoon towards the end of November, Hermione was sitting in a chair close to the fire. Europe's Most Famous and Least Famous Witches and Warlocks Achievements, Actions, and Thoughts was propped up on her lap. The book was big enough to cut the circulation off to her leg quickly, so she would move it from one side to the other. Lily sat across from her, watching her son play chess with (*cough* loose to *cough*) Ron.

James sat staring at the Marauder's Map that the Twins were pouring over. He was truly proud of the two boys. They had some of the most original plots...

After Harry lost (again), he finally turned to Hermione. "Why don't you play?"

"That game is barbaric," she sighed, unhappy to get pulled out of her reading. "It empowers thoughts and strategies of killing."

Harry took about a sixth of a second to think about it. Then he unleashed about half of the power of the 'Potter Pout' on her. "But you're smart!"

Lily sighed at the same time Hermione did. Both spoke at the same time, too. "Flattery will get you no where."

Ron decided to give his two cents worth. "She probably just knows I'll win anyways."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Nice try, Ron. But I'm still not playing."

Harry gently took the book off her lap. Turning his pout to full capacity, he spoke softly, "Please? For my pride?" Hermione caved. She stood and stretched her legs.

"For the record, I still think this game is barbaric," she muttered to Harry as she sat in the seat he'd just vacated.

About twelve minutes later she stood up; leaving a crushed Ron to cry over his demolished pieces. Harry, Lily, James, Fred, and George looked at the bushy-haired brunette dazedly. She shrugged and nicked her book back from Harry before resuming her reading.

Ron continued mourning his lost pieces, and didn't say one word to Hermione for the next week. Which earned him multiple glares from Lily.

"It was just a stupid game of chess," the ghostly woman would say loudly to her husband whenever Ron would humph and look away from Hermione's attempts at forgiveness. "And Harry isn't even trying to be fair. He's just sticking with his first friend."

And indeed Harry was. Most of the time, Ron would refuse to even be in the same room as Hermione, so Harry would immediately follow him out the door.

About a week before Christmas Break, Ron finally forgave Hermione; but only because his pile of homework had gotten to the size of a small mountain. If Lily could've, she would've glared holes through the red-head. James made a point to stay away from her when she was in one of those moods.

* * *

One day, curious, James followed Hermione into the library. Lily would've died all over again had she heard.

He'd found her buried in a table at the very back, books stacked around her so high that he probably would've taken the poor table as another set of shelves. Her hair was pulled back untidily, and she seemed to be completely absorbed in whatever she was thinking of.

Finally, with a glare at nothing in particular, she dropped her head into her hands.

James began to pity her, seeing the girl as she slumped, seeming to deflate. Normally, Hermione Granger seemed completely above all insults and jokes poked at her, but each one was carved into face now. It tugged at his long dead heartstrings.

"Thank God I'm here..." he heard her murmur. "Though it doesn't seem as if times have changed. Still no contact with my parents, still friendships based off of my own academic capabilities... I really had thought Harry was above that."

She sighed once, and then pulled herself together. James watched the change on her face, amazed how it went from an overworked eleven year old to the strong, stable, dependable, know-it-all Hermione Granger. He wished he could help her. Truly, he did.

The best he could do is resolve to watch over her. And even then that would do nothing.

* * *

Ron and Harry ended up staying for the Christmas Holiday. Hermione went to spend some time with her aunt. She kept saying that her parents were going on a second honeymoon. But, just like the males they were, they completely ignored her. Even James tutted their inattentive nature, and began to wonder why Hermione was sticking around even though she _knew _she was being taken advantage of.

Once the holidays started, Ron and Harry were having too good of a time to remember to research Flamel (much to Lily and James' disappointment... Mostly Lily's.). They spent most of their time sitting by the fire and burning whatever they could get their hands on. Bread, English muffins, marshmallows, and Malfoy voodoo dolls (much to James' amusement... And not Lily's.). Oh, and plotting ways to get the voodoo dolls' inspiration expelled.

When Harry woke up on Christmas day, he was delighted to find a small pile of presents at the foot of his bed, and scuttled towards the pile somewhat noisily. Lily had a gigantic smile on her face, as did James. Both were happy that their son was _finally_ getting some gifts.

"Merry Christmas," Ron mumbled, groggy as it was still quite early.

"You too," Harry said. "I've got presents!"

Ron sat up and started towards his own (and considerably larger) pile. "What did you expect?" He asked, unwrapping a gift from one of the Twins.

Harry ignored him and quickly tore though the gift at the top of the pile. It was wrapped in notably thick paper, and inside was a note saying: _To Harry, From Hagrid _and a wooden, hand-carved flute.

"I do love Hagrid," Lily murmured to her husband after seeing Harry experimentally try it.

"I thought you loved me?"

"Nope. I loved Remus more. So there, Prongsie." Lily patted him on the side of the head. James glared jokingly, and missed his son opening the presents from Mrs. Weasley and Hermione. He only snapped back when he saw his invisibility cloak slither out of its wrapping.

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**Much love for you lot. Much love.**


	4. Wise (Or Is It Senile?)

**Disclaimer: Quick, by a show of hands, which of you here think I'm JRK?... You?.. Excuse me, may I borrow that bat?... Ah, yes, thank you... BAM... KERPLUNKY... Anyone else?... Oh, you want me to wipe the brains off? What do I look like to you? An actual writer?**

**Revised on August 30th, 2012.**

* * *

"James? What is our son holding?" Lily asked her frozen husband.

James didn't seem to notice. At all. If he were solid, flies would be building houses in his mouth. But Harry didn't notice as he looked over the note that had come with the cloak.

_"Your father left this in my possession he died. It is time it was returned to you._

_"Use it well,_

_"A Very Merry Christmas to you,"_ Harry read aloud softly. Lily started to glare at the (still) frozen James.

"You have an invisibility cloak?" she growled, snapping him out of his daze.

He met her glare meekly. "Yes?" he squeaked.

"You have and invisibility cloak?" she growled again, still not fully comprehending. Possibly she hoped that this time the answer will have changed. She'd always hoped a little too much for her own good.

James pulled all of his manhood together and retold some of the stories of what he and Sirius had done by using the cloak. By then, the Twins had already frog-marched Percy into a snow-ball fight, Harry and Ron had joined; and somewhere far away, a certain bushy-haired genius had screamed as her aunt was hit by a car.

By the end, Lily was looking slightly awed by his many different pranks her husband and his best friend had pulled on the poor Professors back in the "Glory Days'. James was just happy he was still alive - or as close as he was at the beginning of this story.

They followed their son through his first true Christmas, and James smiled widely when he saw Harry sit up and slip on his own invisibility cloak and start to walk through the halls. When Harry's meandering ended at the thick oak doors of the library, and James smirk dropped.

"Has Hermione turned my son into a book-worm?" he asked himself.

Lily heard.

And she glared. Really hard.

It would have scared Voldemort to death (even with all of his little horcruxes).

"What's wrong with being a book-worm?"

James shrunk back. "Nothing dear, nothing at all. I just thought that the first time my son'd go out after-hours with my cloak, he'd go somewhere other than the library."

She looked away, leaving him to stifle the urge to state "Crisis adverted." There was only so much courage the man had, especially when he likely had an eternity to spend with her being the only person he could speak to. Honestly, he didn't feel like spending the better of it dodging remarks. Or castration attempts.

By then, Harry had already made his way back to Restricted Section. James was a little less discouraged. Until he heard Harry mutter about Flamel as he looked through books. Then he was proud that one of the boys was finally taking the time to help Hermione on her hefty task... Though still somewhat depressed his cloak was getting its trial run in the library of all places. Harry finally came upon one book that was old-style black leather, bound silver.

"No, Harry. Do _not_ open that book. It'll screa-" Lily started. Only to be cut off by the blood curdling screech the book let out. The two watched Harry duck out of the library and run into Snape and Quirrel. Then he ran for the classroom that held the Mirror of Erised. Lily read the inscription at the top and chuckled to herself.

"_I show not your face_," she translated for James, "_but your heart's desire_. Wrote it backwards - like in a mirror... Ingenious."

James pinched his nose, not really caring - but not daring to comment. He liked his dangly bits exactly where they were, thank you very much. Harry looked deeply into the mirror. "Mom?" he whispered.

Lily looked up. "Did he ju - "

"Shhh!" James hissed.

"Dad?" Harry continued, completely unaware of his parents standing behind him. Instead, he stared into the mirror. For a really long time. Long enough for James to start to annoy Lily like he used to in their school days, just to pass the time faster when it became evident that the mirror did not show they themselves, but how Harry so dearly wanted him to appear.

Finally, Harry murmured a quick, "I'll be back," and ran for his dormitory.

* * *

"You could've woken me up," Ron said crossly, digging into him breakfast none the less.

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."

Lily's eyes grew big. "We're his heart's desire. To have a family. I'm going to _kill_ Petunia and her brute of a husband sometime soon," she hissed. About 800 miles away, Petunia and Vernon Dursley shivered for no known reason.

Ron looked up from his eggs and bacon. "I'd like to see your mom and dad."

"And I'd like to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your brothers and everyone."

Ron didn't bother to answer, and finished off his breakfast.

* * *

Harry and Ron took nearly an hour to find the empty class room again, and as soon as they were in, Harry ran to the mirror. His family was there, and unbeknownst to him, his parents were also.

"See?" Harry whispered.

"I can't see anything," Ron whispered back, thinking that Harry might have been delusional. One round with Voldemort too many, if you get my drift...

"Look! Look at them all... There's loads of them."

"I can only see you."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."

As soon as Ron was in front of the mirror, his family disappeared. And the Mirror of Erised became blank (in his eyes) except for Ron in his old PJs. Ron stared at the mirror, completely transfixed.

"Look at me!" he finally murmured.

"We're doing that," James replied.

"Can you see all of your family standing around you?"

"No - I'm alone - but I'm different - I look older - and I'm Head Boy!"

_"What?"_ All three Potters asked.

"I am - I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to - and I'm holding the house cup and the Quiddich cup - I'm Quiddich captain, too!"

"So he just likes being the best at everything?" Lily asked her husband. He shrugged in answer.

Ron tore his eyes away from the mirror to look at Harry. "Do you think this mirror shows the future?" he asked excitedly.

"How can it? My parents are dead. Let me have another look."

Lily looked sad. "He said it. I already knew we'd never get to communicate with him, James... But I hadn't realized it'd hurt this much at times."

"Maybe something good will come of this."

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to both James and Lily's discussion, and Harry and Ron's mini-fight.

"Quick!"

Ron threw the cloak over himself and Harry as Mrs. Norris' gigantic and glowing eyes come around the corner. The cat glare / stared for what seemed like an age. Then she turned and left.

"This isn't safe - she'll go get Filch. Let's leave. Come on." And Ron pulled Harry out of the room as James and Lily followed behind.

* * *

"Back here again, are you Harry?" Came the wise (or senile?) old man's voice. Harry sat bolt upright while Lily and James just looked slightly freaked out.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You're back here again. It does not do well to stand before this mirror."

"But it shows my family."

"Do you know what this mirror does?"

"No, sir."

"The happiest man in the world could use this like a normal mirror."

Harry was silent for a few seconds. Then, "It shows whatever you want?"

"Yes... And no. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

"The mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry. I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you _do_ run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live - remember that. Now, why don't you put that cloak on and go back to bed."

Lily looked thoughtful. "As amazing as he is, he's still crazy as Petunia."

"Yeah. He's peculiar, but I like him."

Harry stood up. By the time he'd returned to his bed, he'd also found that the old man could be sarcastic and his deepest desire was to get a pair of thick, wooly socks for Christmas.

* * *

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised from then on, but that didn't mean he spent any more time looking for Nicolas Flamel. One excursion to the library was enough for the young Potter.

* * *

**Chapter has been revised (...again...) by LLLee!**


	5. Partnerships and Sightings

**Everyone who's reviewed twice (or more): CYBER CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES!**

**Disclaimer: Umm... I can't really think of anything right now... Try me again next year...**

**Revised on August 30th, 2012.**

* * *

Hermione stepped off the train quickly, still not trusting anything with wheels. Her eyes were fixed to the ground, and she only looked up when she heard the sound of leathery wings being moved.

She stared in silent wonder at the skeleton-like thestral. It had deep eyes, and they watched her knowingly. With what almost could be a grin, it nodded its bony head towards something behind her, and she swiveled to see a sneering Malfoy...

Minus the sneer.

He was simply staring between her and the thestral, dumbstruck and blanching a little.

Hermione bit back a smile and turned back to the thestral, timidly giving its flank a pat. It kind of purred and gave her hand a small lick. She gave it another pat, less timid this time, and entered its carriage. She was thankful for obsessively reading Hogwarts, A History, because then she knew that the skeleton was just a thestral. No reason to freak out. Yeah, none at all.

The carriage was empty. Our bushy haired witch took a seat and began some light reading, still looking for Nicholas Flamel.

Until Malfoy slipped in.

She actually didn't even notice him at first, reading as hard as she was. But she did notice the clearing of a throat and a soft, "You can see them, too?"

Her head snapped up, and she located at him with wide, surprised eyes. "Excuse me, Malfoy?" She slipped her book back into her over-large bag as subtly as she could manage.

"You can see them, too. I know you can," he said, using that same soft, slightly terrifying voice.

She was hesitant. "Yes."

"How? I mean, who died? When did they?"

"Won't you just blackmail me?"

He put a hand over his heart. "I sware upon my blood's pureness, that no blackmail will come from this conversation."

Hermione blinked. Honestly, it felt odd for her to sit here talking with _Draco__ Malfoy_, of all people, civilly. Let alone the fact that he was the one to initiated the conversation...

"Why do you ask, Malfoy?"

"Because I can see them. It was my grandfather. He had a heart attack at dinner. The house-elves were beside themselves..." he trailed off at her astonished stare. "What? Granger? Hellllooo?"

"Who are you?" she asked, squinting. "What have you done with Malfoy?"

He sighed dramatically as the carriage started with a bump. "What do you mean?"

"You're not being mean. You're not teasing me. You're not being... You."

"I just thought... Well, you could see them... Maybe you had it worse than... I was just trying to... Someone with half a brain to talk..." He once again trailed off, this time his composure slightly less than whole.

"Can you repeat that?"

Malfoy was very slow and deliberate. If Lily would've been here at the second, she would've rolled her eyes. "You seem smart. And you can see thestrals. Why?"

"Can I see thestrals?"

He nodded his head slightly.

"How can I know you're not going to have one of your goons use this against me?"

"You can't."

She agreed with his logic. "I watched my aunt die. She was hit by a car."

"Car?"

"It's a muggle thing. Why do you care?"

He seemed to be thinking that himself. "I guess... I guess it's because you're as old as me. And almost as smart as me."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. _Almost?_ She was beating him in every class. But she was willing to admit that he'd been coming in a close second. Well, close for anyone with what could be considered an average sized brain.

Malfoy didn't seem to notice. "And those in Slytherin are dumber than I personally thought possible. I've been looking for some intelligent conversation, and you seem to be able to offer it."

"Er... Thanks?"

"No problem. When did your aunt die?"

"A week ago."

"Oh. Sorry."

He seemed sincere, Hermione concluded. "When did your grandfather?"

"I was about six." When she looked like she wanted to say something, he held up a pale hand. "No problems. He was a grouchy old man, I never liked him."

Hermione shifted. This was still all very new and very odd to her. She had half a mind to just shove this isolated incident into the back of her head and begin reading once again. Chalk it up to too much Lewis Carrol as of late and some suspicious brownies Neville had shared with her earlier on the train.

"I won't tease you," Malfoy piped up when she seemed reluctant to talk more.

That, however, froze Hermione's thoughts just as the cloak had frozen James' ghostly body. This boy had tortured her everyday for the last five months. And now he was offering to be nice. Or at least civil. What was the world coming to?

"I really am sorry about all of that."

"Who are you?" she asked once again. "I'm serious, Malfoy, you're scaring me."

He looked insulted. "Here I am, trying to hold out my hand to have a friendship with a mug - "

"No, no, no," she interrupted. "I'm just kinda weirded out. You're supposed to be mean for no apparent reason, not apologizing and asking for my friendship. Just give me a second to gather my wits about me."

He was quiet.

Hermione didn't get this. He just seemed to want this all to be water under the bridge. She knew very well that he understood all work assigned to him, so he wouldn't be asking her for homework help often - if not, ever. This wasn't how friendships, though she often thought of them as more of partnerships, were formed around her. They were _always_ based off her brains, not her. And Malfoy was being genuine, of that she was certain.

So, that was that. Her mind was made up for her.

"I'd love to have another friend."

"Good. Nice to meet you, Hermione."

He held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Draco," she agreed, shaking hands with him before settling back into her seat and pulling out the massive tome she'd been reading before.

"We can't be outright friends though," he commented a little later. "It would destabilize the fragile friendships of those around the school, shattering the glass lines. Hogwarts would become a mass of boundless people floating out in the middle of nowhere, not knowing what social group they belonged in. Mass chaos."

Hermione looked up at Malf - Draco, surprised that he'd observed that too. "I know. This school walks on a tightrope. Yes, yes, we'll have to disguise this new friendship. There's a spot in the library I can show you. No one would ever find us."

"That'll do. What are you reading?"

"About Famous Witches and Warlocks and their achievements. I'm trying to find..." it was now her turn to trail off.

"Find what, Gra - Hermione?"

She shrugged and began to read. "Nicholas Flamel."

The carriage slowed to a stop, and Hermione stowed her book away.

"Well," Draco started, holding the carriage door for her as he'd been taught by his mother. "I'll meet you by the library entrance tomorrow morning at six. Good-bye, Hermione."

"Bye Draco."

* * *

Hermione thought about what had just occurred in the carriage as she walked back to the Gryffindor Tower. She had her doubts about Ma - Draco. What if he suddenly decided to turn on their tentative friendship? What kind of friendship was began by practically a contract? What would Harry say? But those doubts were wiped from her mind when she saw Harry himself walking towards her with two people, obviously his parents, following behind.

She knew they were his parents from the pictures in many of the books she'd read. Yes, that was unmistakably his mother and father - Lily Evans-Potter and James Potter. One problem went with this picture - she knew they were dead. Like,_ dead_ dead.

Maybe she was just having a delusion. Or the shock of a civil Draco still hadn't worn off. Both were very possible at the second.

But she ignored the delusions/shock things and gave Harry a wane smile. She was tired and hadn't slept well since her aunt's passing. Frankly, she was surprised that Harry'd even noticed her absence. He spent almost no time with her, and was always following Ronald's lead.

The Lily-delusion's voice was motherly. "Aww, the poor girl. Probably hasn't sleep that well over the break. I wonder what happened at her aunt's?"

At this Hermione's eyes whisked over to Lily to stare with surprise. The dead redhead looked back at her, the same expression on her face. James' mirrored both girls' expressions.

Harry, our dear Harry, was still out of the loop. "Hermione, are you okay?" he asked, just as Lily asked, "Can you hear and see us too?"

"Yeah," she answered Lily faintly, not having heard Harry talk.

The two dead people's jaws hit the ground, and then there was the exchanging of glances as Harry tried to regain Hermione's attention.

* * *

A very shaken Hermione came down into the common room the next morning. She was planing to simply stare into the fire until 5:30 came around, then she'd leave to meet Mal - Draco.

Her plans were crushed when she saw Harry asleep on the couch she'd wanted to sit on. Well, not exactly Harry, but his parents, who were floating behind him.

Hermione was already burnt out, so she simply sunk onto said couch and bowed her head. Harry continued right on sleeping.

"Hermione," came a voice almost exactly like Harry's (only a touch deeper) just as the boy let out a small sneeze.

Hermione didn't look up, opting to mumble through her hands to the figments of her imagination. "That's my name, James Potter. Why can I see you?"

"Well," Lily answered, "James and I have been wondering that too. We were told that we weren't able to communicate with Harry, but we were allowed to watch his life. What happened at your aunt's?"

"She died," came the short reply.

Lily gave a rather mother-hen-ish: "Are you okay? Were you there?"

"I've processed it, and I will be fine soon. And, yes, I was."

All three looked down at Harry when he sneezed a second time. He slept right on.

"Oh, I do wish I could have put a blanket over him," Lily murmured, watching him. Hermione padded over to the other side of the room to grab a stray one off the back of the couch opposite and threw it over him before sitting back down. "Thank you."

"It's no problem. Do you two even exist? Or am I just delusional? Like, fragmented imaginational hallucinations when someone has been stretched too thin?"

Shockingly, James was the one to respond. "Yes and no. We exist_ed_. We had lives, but now they're gone. We were offered the chance to follow Harry though his, as Lily explained, and we took it. We've been watching his entire life so far. So that means we'd be delusions of Harry's, not yours - if we were delusions."

Hermione nodded to herself, not really too amazed. I mean, who's delusions would say they really were delusions? It was just against the rules of delusions. And no one could go against the rules of delusions. No one. So Hermione was forced to accept that the delusions weren't really delusions, seeing as they'd gone against the rules of delusions by saying they weren't her own delusions and just someone else's delusions that she'd somehow picked up on. But would that mean they were joint delusions? Hermione just didn't want to think on the subject anymore.

So she listened politely as James told her of his years in school. She listened until she heard Harry ask a bleary, "'Ermione? Why're you star'n at the wa-ah-ah-aall?" The last word had been messed up by a gigantic yawn, obviously.

Hermone was quick to pull herself together as James continued on about how Professor McGonagall had come to be named Minnie, completely oblivious to Harry being awake. Lily was a little more in touch with her surroundings, and kindly stomped on James' foot to shut him up for the time being.

Hermione barely suppressed a laugh, and silently was thankful Harry was as blind as a bat without his glasses, which were sitting on the coffee table behind her. However, she did wonder how Harry had managed to see her staring at James (who, as far as she knew, would have been completely invisible, therefore a wall) when he was currently in a state of not being able to see a hand being waved in front of his face.

She shrugged it off and checked the time on the clock above the mantel.

Harry took the time to reach over and put on his glasses. He hitched himself up a little, so he was mostly leaning on his elbows, and then looked at Hermione. She looked tired. And depressed.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked at Harry blandly. "Soon enough," she sighed. "I bid you good-bye now, because I've got to go to the library."

Harry, like any normal child, immediately shied away from the thought of spending the morning in the library, and simply told her 'good luck'.

* * *

A thoroughly strained Hermione Granger showed up in front of the library, rubbing her temples. She jumped about six feet in the air when Draco skipped up and grabbed her arm to keep himself from falling flat on his face.

He smoothed his hair back down, and looked at her warmly. "Good morning, Hermione."

She rubbed her eyes and muttered, "Is it?"

He didn't seem to notice, taking her by the arm and skipping - yes, _skipping _- into the library. He instantly became cool and disconnected as Madam Vulture looked over. Hermione smiled at the librarian, earning a sharp nod in return, before motioning Draco over to the secluded section deep in the library that he'd been told of previously. So deep, they couldn't be heard by anyone unless said anyone were to go past the ancient and advanced arithmacy section. Basically, even Madam Pince wouldn't stop to over-hear them.

As soon as Madam Vulture was out of view, Draco took Hermione's hand and skipped merrily to where ever she was leading him. It was a sight that many would've gaped at. Firstly, at the sight of Hermione _not_ beating Draco over the head with a book, then at the sight of Draco skipping, and then at the sight of their conjoined hands.

Hermione steered him into her little nook and onto the couch that had been hidden there. He was bouncing like a little kid high on sugar, but then became very solemn.

"What should I nickname you?" he asked. She raised her eyebrows. Was he usually this... Odd?

"Nickname?"

He nodded and tilted his head to the side, examining her for a long time. "Hmm... Do you like 'Mione?"

She was still looking at him blankly. Where was the Malfoy she was used to?

He began to bounce on his chair.

"That's probably a no... How about Mia?"

Blank stare. Bounce, bounce.

"No... Mine?"

Blank stare with a raised eyebrow. Bounce, bounce, bounce.

"O-kay. How 'bout Mimi?"

She may have only known this side of him for about a half hour in all, but she could tell that he'd find some way to change her name for hours on end. So she held up her hand, silencing him, and smiled. "Mimi will do. How are we going to communicate?"

He stopped bouncing. "I don't know. What do you propose we do?"

"I'll find some way. Until then, send me an owl. We'll meet back here."

He smiled and began to bounce again.

She watched him for a long moment. "Are you always this abnormally hyper?"

He nodded. "It's nice to be able to show it every once and a while. Slytherins are so uptight. It's stifling."

Hermione blinked.

And blinked.

And blinked.

And blinked.

And blinked.

"Are you okay, Mimi?"

And blinked.

And blinked.

And blinked.

And blinked.

"Really, Mimi, you're scaring me."

And blinked.

And blinked.

With a final blink, she came back to the normal world. "Eh?"

Draco looked relieved. "I thought you were going to pass out there. You just stared at the wall and kept blinking."

"You insulted Slytherins? Your own house? I thought you loved your house." Her voice was marveling.

"I don't love my house. They're rude to everyone. Goyle snores and Crabbe sleep talks. You really should see that. I have some of my best conversations with him when he's asleep. And the other boys keep to themselves, so they're no fun. It's boring."

Hermione forcefully shoved the image of Draco leaning over Crabbe out of her head before she collapsed into giggles.

"I don't really even like Purebloood culture that much, either. We're all about appearances, and there isn't a girl out there with brains. I sware, Parkinson hasn't said two intelligent words to me in my entire time of knowing her. My mother is the only Pureblooded female who has any wits. She's careful not to show it around Father, though. Something about a woman who is intelligent scares him. I personally don't know what that is."

They talked for a while longer before Hermione excused herself to get back to her earlier problem - seeing dead people.

* * *

** Dah-dah-dah-dah-dah! A-C-FLEM!**


	6. The-Boy-Who-Slept-Anywhere

**I'm back from my hiatus! The move was quick, but where I lived internet was something of dreams. But I've gotten it now, so I'll be all kinds of nice and crank this story out before a demon called 'Writer's Block' hobbles out of the dark corners of my brain and covers up my fictional thought processes.**

**That was oddly scientific for me. **

**However, I hadn't been able to fight off the demon, and so I am updating while it gets beaten away.**

**Anyways... Disclaimer: Yes, of course I own the world. Thank you for realizing that.**

**Revised on August 30th, 2012.**

* * *

Harry was asleep once again on the couch, his head lolling off to the side. Hermione sighed to herself and sat down by his knees. James immediately went into the story that had been interrupted earlier, and Hermione indulged him with her undivided attention.

Until Harry, the Boy-Who-Slept-Anywhere, sat up - sending Hermione toppling off the couch and James into hysterics. Even Lily kicking him a few times couldn't stop his mirth.

"Oh, sorry, 'Mione. Are you 'kay?"

Hermione righted herself. "Ugh. Yeah. Just little surprised, is all."

Harry nodded while Hermione studiously ignored the various thuds that were the evidence of Lily trying to shut James up.

"So, how was your sleep?"

His eyes shifted.

"You did sleep, right?"

Silence.

"Harry?"

"I had a dream."

"And what was your dream about?"

"You became friends with Malfoy."

James shut up at that. Hermione sat there, wondering what the heck she could say. She was in no way, shape, or form a good liar, and she knew it very well.

"And why is that so bad?" she instead opted to say.

"Well, he's rude. And nasty. And mean. And..."

"Harry."

"And vicious. And..."

"Harry."

"... Infuriating. And..."

"Seriously, Harry, where did you get these ideas?"

Harry blinked. "I dunno. But they're true. I know they are."

"Where's the facts, Harry?"

He sighed. "Why do you always have to have the facts?"

She gave him a fleeting smile. "Why not? What's so wrong with being sure?"

"Because... Because it's boring."

"Says you. I believe it's important."

"How can being sure of everything not be boring, no matter the importance? No surprises, no awe, no nothing. No amount of knowledge could even out _that_ playing field."

"And random surprises can get you injured. Remember your first Quidditch game? Would you rather be unable to walk because you took a risk without being sure, or would you like to know what's happening?"

"While you're spending all your time studying, expanding you knowledge, life will march right by you. If I'm in a wheelchair, at least I'll be able to say that I lived and lost."

"'_And lost',_" Hermione echoed. "How much would you be willing to loose, just so you could say you lived? Would you be willing to bet it all?"

Harry growled deep in his throat. James felt rather impressed. "That's not fair."

Lily and James had watched this exchange, seeing as they'd had this debate many times in the past. It was interesting to hear another generation's view on the dilemma.

"There is a quote for that suits this perfectly, Harry. D'you want to hear it?"

Scrunching his eyebrows together at her sudden change of topic, Harry shrugged. Hermione had seated herself so that she was facing him sometime during the debate, and now she fixed him with a penetrating stare. Little did she know that this would be the beginning of what Fred Weasley would later dub 'The Quote Wars'.

She cleared her throat. "This is part of the poem 'If - ' by Rudyard Kipling:

"_If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken  
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,  
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,  
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;_

_"If you can make one heap of your winnings  
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,  
And lose, and start again at your beginning  
And never breathe a word about your loss..._

"Try to figure out what Kipling meant, Harry. There's more, too, but I don't think you'd look that up."

"Why would you quote something like that? And what makes you think that I'd never look anything extra up?"

He received a level glare. "I've never seen you step foot in the library. You follow Ronald, meaning you brush me and my advice off as much as possible."

"Do not!"

"You do, and you know it. If you want to prove me wrong, tell me how much time you've spent researching Flamel. How many hours, Harry?"

"... None."

"How many minutes?"

"... A few."

"Very few. I've spent the last three months of free time flipping through books to find him. Do you remember me asking you to look for him over break, since I'd be gone?"

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"I'm sorry, 'Mione."

Hermione shrugged. "It always happens. That's why I'm the one looking everything up, and you boys are the ones coping my work. Now, if you don't mind, I think I will be going to bed."

She left quickly, and Harry looked after her, eyes slanted. James mulled over her last comment, wondering if her parents knew what happened with her, and Lily followed her up to her dorms to offer her help in looking for Flamel.

* * *

**This is where the story's going to start changing. **

**You see, 'cause Hermione decided to listen to James as he told his story, she didn't travel straight up to her dorms. Meaning she was in the commons. Because of that, she and Harry had that talk, and now Harry's gonna be mulling over his latest actions. This will help him decide to better educate himself (though this thought won't hit until the end of second year), and he won't be as crushed when Ron decides to scamper off. And, as I mentioned briefly, the Quote Wars will begin between them.**

**Get it? Got it? Good.**


	7. Mirrors, Ballet, and Books

**I AM SO, SO, SO, SORRY. YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN SO KIND AND PATIENT, AND I PROMISE TO UPDATE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE FROM NOW ON TO MAKE UP FOR IT!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned the series, you would not have read it. Period. End of story.**

* * *

Harry sat on his four-poster, early this fine Saturday, thinking over what Hermione had said.

He didn't _always_ follow Ron. Sometimes, like with Quidditch, he didn't do what Ron did. And he didn't ignore 'Mione, he just... He just didn't acknowledge her. Of course he never _ignored_ her. She was his closest female friend. Always a fountain of facts, aggravated when she couldn't do something on her own. One of his two best mates. His 'Mione.

Admittedly, he _had_ followed Ron's lead with the chess thing. Ron was his best friend. Even if he didn't exactly agree with Ron's reasoning, best mates stuck together. Plus, 'Mione had other friends.

Harry thought about that. 'Mione had other friends, right? If she did, why didn't she ever talk with them? Wasn't she friends with Lavender and Parvati? What about those two other girls in the dorm? He'd never heard her say anything mean about any of them. And what about Neville? He practically worshipped the ground she walked on because she was always so willing to help. She was always helping everyone else. But she never sat with anyone else. Never.

One of Ron's chainsaw-like snores jerked Harry away from a very important epiphany. _Never_, was the last thing on that line of thought to come through his head, perfectly in tune with Ron's obnoxious snore.

Resolving himself to get back in 'Mione's good books, he did something he hadn't really thought he'd do in his school life. He went to the library to do extra studying. That 'If - ' poem/quote/thing was bugging him, and he wanted to be able to give her a poem/quote/thing to think on in return. And he was going to look up Flamel.

Once in the library, he noticed Hermione was nowhere to be found. Good, so she hadn't come out of her dorms while he was in his own.

James had been the only one to see this, and he was mighty proud. He wasn't proud of the whole 'going-to-the-library-on-a-weekend' thing, but he was of his son's willingness to devote time to stumping one of the smartest witches he'd personally met with a poem he probably wouldn't understand.

... This was going to take a while. Maybe he should stock up on snacks before he left. Hadn't he hidden some of the sweets from Christmas in his top drawer?

After many a dusty volume of muggle literature, Harry found the poem he was looking for. It took seven or eight reads for him to understand just what it was going on about, but he got it eventually. And now, to search for a bit of poetry 'Mione _hadn't_ read. About two hours later, he found what he was looking for.

* * *

Hermione was about to go crazy. The ghost of Lily Evans-Potter was stalking her, Harry was gone, Ron had been a pig - again - and told her the truth of his friendship, Harry had disappeared, Lindsay Criship had pulled a Seamus Finnigan and blown up a picture she was trying to animate in the dorms (thus stinking up the whole place), Harry wasn't here, her hair was being especially bushy, and she couldn't find Harry.

Lavender and Parvati walked into the dorm just then, chatting about some nonsense. When the Lily-ghost turned to look, Hermione dove under her bed, scrambled for the shoe box she always kept there, and pelted out of the door before the Lily-ghost could notice.

Hidden in the box under her arm was all of her vital ballet articles: pointe shoes, tights, toe supports... She'd been neglecting practice since she entered the school.

She had promised herself just after her aunt's death that she would pick up ballet again. Her aunt had been the one to prod her along in ballet, the one at every single class, the one at all of her recitals, the one who took her out for ice cream after her first successful pirouette. She'd always been so sure that Hermione would go far.

And Hermione was going to.

... But how?

Hermione's train of thought was interrupted by Professor McGonagall's brisk, "Miss Granger?"

"Yes Professor?"

* * *

Minervera McGonagall had never met a more brilliant student than Hermione Granger (and she wagered that she never would). Seeing that student looking so harried, Minevera's maternal side unexpectedly flared to life. She knew from experience that the hassled look meant a bad morning, and she also had been informed that Miss Granger had recently lost her aunt. Add in her bad judgement in friends - Mr. Weasley was simply a pig - and you had an almost certified horrible day.

"What do you have there?" Minevera tried to make her voice kind.

Miss Granger licked her lips, her eyes darting to and fro as if Peeves himself was after her. "It's kind of a secret, Professor."

"Well then, do you need anything?"

Her eyes continued to dart about. "Is there any place to practice ballet?"

Minevera blinked. "Do you have a teacher, Miss Granger?"

A quick head shake.

"Come with me." Minevera was off. Miss Granger tagged alongside her, and failed to keep the look of muted horror off of her face when she found herself at Minevera's office door.

"I am trusting you with this password, Miss Granger. Do not betray my trust. _Vera Gall_."

And Minevera opened her office door.

Revealing a ballet studio, complete with a wall of mirrors and thee walls of barres. Minevera smiled at the awed look she received.

"Who was Vera Gall?" Hermione asked later, as she examined the changing room.

"A famous ballerina of the wizarding world. She was a part of the Pheonix Troupe, lead ballerina and minor talent scout. But that was a long time ago."

Minevera did not tell her that Vera Gall was the stage version of Mine_vera_ McGona_gall_. There was no need to dwell on ancient times. After all, the Pheonix Troupe had crumbled nigh on forty years ago.

Miss Granger exited the changing rooms, already outfitted in black tights, a pair of matching pointe shoes in hand. Minevera's eyebrows scrunched. It was quite unusual - in both the muggle and magical worlds - for an aspiring ballerina to wear black. The to-be-cavalier, the boy, was usually to wear black. Maybe she came from a backwards studio?

As the girl slipped her shoes on, she murmured, "You knew her, didn't you?"

Minevera thinly veiled her shock. "That I did. Very well, Miss Granger. Very well indeed. How did you guess?"

The girl shrugged and finished the tying of her right pointe. "Your eyes. Will there be someone to mentor me?"

"Ask the mirrors."

* * *

Harry was surprised when he didn't see Hermione at dinner. Lily had gone off to look for her, leaving James to wander through the halls listlessly until his son finished with his dinner or his wife found Hermione. Spotting Minnie's office, James thought it'd be nice to check in on what his favorite ex-Head was doing, and thus floated through the door. Only to find the object of his wife's search performing pirouette after pirouette.

"Hermione?" he couldn't help but squeak.

The girl in question fell out of her pirouette. "Er... Mr. Potter's Ghost, sir..."

James' nose wrinkled. "James'll work, Hermione. You're doing ballet."

She shot him a 'No Really?' look. "Yes."

"I thought you were a muggleborn."

"I am."

"But... How do you know how to do ballet - even the simple stuff? As far as I knew, only wizading children had to practice. Do muggle ones usually have to do so?"

"... No. My aunt - Aunt Beatrice - put me in when I was little. She insisted that I get my head out of my books and make some friends... But she kinda forgot about my perfectionist qualities, and they really came to life when I was learning."

At this point, the mirror butted in. "She's a right obsessive gal, that one. She's been in here all day, buildin' her stamina. Askin' me the entire time about how well she been doin', too."

Hermione ducked her head and blushed a bit. "Well, I haven't really done much more than keep up my ability to stand on pointe since I came to Hogwarts - Aunt Bea had commented on it - so I'm only a little above worthless. I'm trying to make her... memory... proud."

"You're not worthless."

"Thanks. Why did you ask? Well, other than the reason you already gave?"

"Purebloods are usually forced to do ballet - y'know, it gives grace, poise, a sense of dignity, blah, blah, bla-blah - until they go to school. Then it's quite rare to find a student that continues. I know that Sirius dropped it first thing when we got to school... Why am I telling you this?"

"You wanted to? I'm the only one who can hear?" She shrugged. "Pick one."

James looked pensive. "Guess I did." He paused, stroking an invisible beard. "Harry has a surprise for you. Oh, and its dinner time."

Her eyes got wide. "Dinner?" She cast a simple freshening charm on herself. James noted that this was a fourth year spell.

"Yep. You can just wear your wrap and sweater. No one will notice."

In seconds, James was left in an empty ballet studio, a half open shoebox and a pair of sneakers for company. He chuckled to himself a bit, remembering past experiences with tardiness.

* * *

Surprised would have been a kind way of describing Draco as he watched Mimi skid into the Great Hall not ten minutes before dinner was scheduled to close. On top of that, she was wearing a skirt he recognized as a cover for ballet tights, a matching sweater, black pointe shoes, a pink patch on each cheek, and her hair quite mussed. What was this?

No one else looked up from their meal but a second year 'Puff - Cedric Diggory. Wasn't he related to Draco somehow? No matter.

Draco carefully assessed what emotions crossed the other boy's face. He saw shock, the most blatant thing, but under the surface was a mix of awe and appraise. Diggory's eyes followed Mimi as she skittered to Potter's side and ate through a rather size-able plate of food.

At one point, he saw Mimi throw a glance and a wink in his direction before returning to her vegetables. Soon after, she stood. "Off to the library. See you Harry. Ronald."

He got the hint. Wiping some nonexistent roll off his lips, he subtly excused himself and left for the library.

Steeling himself up to ask if she did indeed dance was about all he was focused on - until Diggory came into view. He seemed to have the same destination, which irked Draco... Until he remembered that tiny space no one would bother to find.

He nearly giggled (but rest assured that it was a _manly_ giggle) when he saw Diggory give up and exit.

* * *

**Oh, my fabulous readers, I have been despicable to you. I'd run out of ideas a while back, and just starting neglecting ya'll. *gets down on knees, attracting odd stares from other bus riders* PLEASE FORGIVE ME!**

**Now, let me explain the reason behind my ballet addition. By creating ballet as a 'Wizards Only' kind of staple, James and Hermione will have a bridge between them that I couldn't have included before. I'm thinking of having James do a kind of Phantom of the Opera (minus the whole 'falling in love with his pupil') thing - orchestrating and giving support to Hermione's career. And helping her fend off the boys in a myriad of ways when they come.**

**After all, Lily and Hermione will be able to relate in the next couple of chapters over the finding of Flamel. Great minds, y'know? I want her to get to know James, so she'll _trust_ his word when PoA - and Sirius - comes around. **

**Additionally, in (approx.) fourth year, I'm gonna have an interesting thing that'll tighten - and maybe flare up - Hermione and Harry's friendship/relationship, while simultaneously revealing Snape's good traits and Draco's... Loopy-ness. Along with bringing in the ever loved Luna Lovegood. **

**Once more, I'm so sorry. I promise an update will happen within the next ten days - probably less. I have half of the next chappie already written, and school is so slow I can usually average two completely filled pages of my mini-writing per day. The bottleneck occurs only when I get home - I'm allowed only an hour and a half to type up four hours worth of work. It's not exactly easy, so the weekends (when I receive three hours) are when your updates are more likely to come.**

**One last note:**

**I LOVE YOU ALL! THANK YOU FOR STICKIN' WITH ME!**

**PS: Kyna, I've been just as horrible to you. I'm sending over Surfing ASAP. Luffs and stuffs.**


	8. Meeting Cedric

**Disclaimer: Once upon a time, in a country far, far away, there lived a very rich single mother. Her name was not associated with Leedle-Leedle-Lee, who did not therefore skip off to her gold gilded happily ever after (unlike the very rich single mother earlier mentioned). The end.**

**Revised August 30th, 2012.**

* * *

Hermione left the library weary, but pleased. Draco had revealed that he had been - like all Malfoys since Merlin's time - practicing ballet. He'd faked snootiness when telling her the same thing James had, and said that he thought it'd be interesting if they practiced together. She'd replied with a doubting: "... You can't lift me, and where can we practice?"

Apparently, he also had that planned out. There was a small studio ("Malfoys and their partners only," he'd said, winking) near the trophy room. And, before she really knew what was going on, she'd agreed to meet him next Friday after dinner.

When she entered the commons, Lily nearly pounced on her. Her son _did_, and the two ended up tangled in a chair. Hermione was shocked - Harry almost never tolerated physical contact...

Let alone initiating it.

Harry, however, was amazed to find that she wasn't as soft to land on/under as he originally thought. Oh, and that he was rather comfortable with their legs twisted and his upper body hoisted above her in a sort of push-up position, although he usually despised so much as a pat on the back. Odd.

Very odd.

Hermione made very sure to ignore just what Lily was coo-ing and James was cackling about.

"Guess what, Hermione? I have a quote for you, proving my point more than yours that it's better to live and loose than never to live at all.

"_Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,  
__Onward through life he goes;  
__Each morning sees some task begun,  
__Each evening sees it close;  
__Something attempted, something done,  
__Has earned a night's repose."_

Harry though that Hermione's face might have split in two from the smile she gave him. "Henry Woodsworth Longfellow, 'The Village Blacksmith'."

And then she gave him a hug the probably broke a rib.

The problem was that Harry's arms buckled, and he smushed Hermione for the second time that night. When they eventually shifted into a more respectable position, most of the common room was mobbed around Fred and George Weasley, shouting their name, a date, and a certain number of Galleons/Sickles/Kunts.

Hermione decided to listen in on James' rambling. "The two are gonna make a killing off of those bets. Just imagine what kind of money the twins could make off the rest of the school. It's not like they _won't_ get together..."

With that, Hermione tuned him back and out glanced around. The only living people not crowding around the twins - a couple snuggling on a loveseat - were receiving a perplexed stare from Harry. She furrowed her eyebrows.

"What's on your mind, Harry?"

He blinked, then turned to her slowly. "Nothing." At her dubious look: "Really, it's nothing."

Hermione glared. "Yeah, right. Spill, Potter."

"Well..." He sighed, "It's just... Idon'tunderstandwhatthey'redoing."

"You don't understand what they're doing?" A nod. "Cuddling. Surely you've been cuddled before."

Now that puzzled stare was on her. "Why are they cuddling? Is it something couples do?"

"Erm... Anyone can cuddle - close friends, family members," she blushed, "couples. Generally it's used so people can feel, I dunno, _companionship_; like they're not completely alone."

At that point, Ron exited the dorms, a chess board under his arm. He connived Neville into playing while Dean and Seamus sandwiched Harry and Hermione. The two boys had become Hermione's friends also, mostly for the same reasons as the first two. Dean convinced Harry to play exploding snap, and Hermione tried to go up to bed before anyone noticed - until Seamus caught her and called her back.

"How're yeh, lass?"

She couldn't help but smile at his accent. It made her think of rolling green hills. "Tired, Shea."

"Shea?" His eyebrows were raised.

"Shea. It's shortened, easier, and makes me think of leprechaun."

"Low blow, lass."

She laughed and patted his shoulder. "G'night Shea, Dean, Nev. Sleep well, Harry. Ronald."

"What, are yeh crazy? It's only nine."

She grinned at him. "I know."

* * *

The next morning, she woke before the sun bothered to shine. Five-godforsaken-twelve in the a-fricken'-m.

A couple of times, Hermione thought wistfully of rolling over and going back to sleep until a later hour, but she was upright and overall functional by 5:28. Hair pulled back in a chunky bun, and equipped with muggle running shorts, she met James and Lily in the commons. Mercifully, the living Potter wasn't with them.

James was the one to ask the inevitable. "Where are you going in those, Hermione?"

She shrugged. "For a run. The mirrors told me that doing exercise builds a lot of stamina."

"Aren't you sore from yesterday?"

"Very, but I've gotta do what I've gotta do. After all, today's the start of the school week, so I'll need to be properly worked in the mornings and in the afternoons I'll do real dancing. I've got it all planned."

Lily looked hesitant. "Don't overwork yourself, honey. You should probably be back in by seven - most people begin getting up about then."

"Thanks."

Hermione had already mentally scouted out where she could jog. Slowly at first, she went through her stretching, and then she began off. Not twenty minutes later, her feet felt like lead, she was gasping for air, her arms had gone numb, and she was half frozen.

Only through sheer will power did she manage the next ten minutes - until what some call the 'Tunnel Effect' came in. Focusing on one point, and just shoving every last bit of energy she could into forward movement. On and on. Hogwarts came into view, and she pulled out her last stop: sprinting. She nearly collapsed by the front doors, and was disappointed to see that she'd only run for 45 minutes.

But she vowed that by the end of the year, she'd be able to pull off that time without the feeling that someone had just clawed out her lungs and hacked her legs off. Oh, wait, _there's_ where the feeling went. Hermione's thighs came to life with a searing argument to the activity they'd been forced through.

Stumbling back to the common room took more time than normal, and she could barely manage to give James and Lily a 'I-Am-So-Tired' look before dragging herself in for a much deserved shower. It wasn't much past 6:35 when she felt a tad more alive and returned to the common room.

"Tiring, eh?" James asked, chuckling a bit when she slumped into the couch.

"Highly. When's breakfast?"

Doing some calculations, Lily answered, "Not until eight. Are you hungry, dear?"

"Yeah, but I can wait. There's a book or two I can go through in that time. Flamel won't find himself, now will he?"

James shook his head. "I know the way to the kitchens. C'mon, I'll take you. Be sure to do the same for my boy when he needs it."

It took a time to build the strength of spirit to stand, and then she stretched quickly, and followed James' chatter about his, Moony, and Padfoot's many travels after hours. But when she saw the hundreds of house-elves in the kitchen, she couldn't help but exclaim: "What are these things?"

"House-elves," James answered. "And don't think about freeing them - they lose their minds and die quickly. Yes, barbaric, but they enjoy catering to your needs."

Just then, a particularly small one with doe-like eyes and a minature uniform spotted her. "Good morning, Mistress!" she called, coming to stand in front of her. "Mimzi would be proud to serve Mistress, if Mistress will tell Mimzi what she wants."

Hermione blinked. "Umm... Call me Hermione. I don't own you, Mimzi."

Mimzi tipped her head to the side. "Mistress Mione? What would Mistress Mione like?"

"Just call me Hermione. No 'Mistress' on the front."

"Mione?" Mimzi seemed very hesitant about this. "It's not proper for Mimzi to talk to one of her Mistresses without their title."

"You don't have to be proper with me, Mimzi. May I have an english muffin? Preferably with butter and jam?"

The elf ushered her off to a nearby table, where a second or third year Hufflepuff was seated. "Master Cedric, this is Mistr - Mione. She will sit here while Mimzi gets her food." And then she was gone.

Hermione seated herself, careful not to stare at the Puff across the table. James continued with his story, before Lily forced him leave with the intentions to check on Harry.

A stack of english muffins and two dishes of butter and jam were set out in front of her, before Mimzi excused herself to tend to the pancakes for breakfast.

"Well, good morning," Hermione finally murmured. After all, it paid to be pleasant.

The boy looked up, seeming to only have just noticed her presence. "Do I know you?"

"Nah. I'm Hermione Granger, though."

He nodded. "You're friends with Harry Potter. I'm Cedric. Cedric Diggory."

"Nice to meet you." Hermione began buttering her first intended bread product.

"You too. What's a little Gryff like you doing out of your room so early?"

"Eating." For emphasis, she bit into her freshly buttered and jammed english muffin.

Cedric watched her chew. "You're different, aren't you?"

She swallowed. "How so?"

"Well, for one, you're willingly eating in front of me. Two, you were wearing ballet clothing yesterday, and you're a muggleborn so therefore you shouldn't know much about ballet. Three, you haven't been fangirl-ing me like that blond in your dorm. Magenta?"

"Lavender. She and Parvati have a shrine for you in the room. It's a little creepy, really. Shouldn't you get to know a person before you obsess over them?"

"You'd think. Where'd you get the ballet things?"

Hermione shrugged and started on her second. They talked for a few minutes more, until the clocks rang seven. The library would be open at that time, so Hermione excused herself and left to go confirm the information about house-elves James had given her. And maybe she'd check in on the Flamel issue after.


	9. Sorcerer's Stone, Thanks to Neville

**Disclaimer: Effortless-looking-ly. **

* * *

Hermione soon fell into a kind of schedule. Wake up at an ungodly hour, run until she was numb, shower, breakfast with Cedric, look for Flamel in the library, have a second breakfast with Harry and Ron, go to classes, listen to James' stories as the boys ignored her over lunch, more classes, ballet practice under Mirror's instructions, a quick shower, dinner, search for Flamel more (with Lily, usually), then sit with the boys for the last bit of the evening as she played teacher and helped the lot of them through the day's homework until she got too tired to be coherent and dragged herself off to bed for some much deserved rest. Then, it'd start again.

Friday came in something of a blink for her. As predicted, Draco couldn't lift her easily or effortless-looking-ly, so they contented themselves with practicing for the better part of the day under the Malfoy Mirror's careful instruction. At the very least, the two would be familiar with one another's quirks and preferences.

And after a quick shower, she returned to her light reading book in the commons. It was another enormous, mold coated tome; she had to shift it from one leg to another about every thirty pages. Ron and Harry were playing wizarding chess, James was hovering around Fred and George, and Lily was in the library reading through a large tome Hermione'd cast a page turning spell on.

With a bang, the portrait hole opened. Out of it hopped Neville, a Leg-Locker Curse in place. Hermione reversed it without hesitation, then led him to the spot she'd vacated. There was a few snickers, but they were silenced under her glare.

"Who did this to you, Nev?" she asked, settling between him and Harry (who was rifling though his pockets for something).

"Malfoy. Just outside the library. He was in a horrible mood, moping over something I think. Then he just fired it! Right at _me! _When I'd landed on the floor, I'd first thought that I'd tripped over a stone or something..."

Neville watched the way she glared, and then switched into a shocked expression. Neither Harry or Ron noticed until she narrowed her eyes, and mouthed 'stone'.

Then she leapt on Neville and gave him a tight hug. "Thank you, thank you, _thank you!_ Oh, I love you _so_ much for this, Nev!"

Before they could so much as blink, Hermione was off him and flying up the dormitory stairs.

"What was she on about?" Ron asked.

"Something involving a stone, apparently."

Neville looked quite shaken. "Does she always do that? And did you see her expression before?"

Harry patted him on the shoulder in a wise, Dumbledore-ey way. "You'll get used to it, if you're her friend. Hermione's very huggy, and she blurts things when she figures something out."

"Oh."

Hermione appeared just then at the girls staircase, flipping the pages of a new, large, and moldy book at a rate that would give Mme. Pince cardiac arrest. When Neville spotted her, he shot off the the boy's dorms. She didn't even seem to notice as she made her way over to sit between Harry and Ron.

"Nicolas Flamel was the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone," she whispered speedily, her words almost slurring.

"The Sorcerer's Stone?" Ron asked, voicing Harry's question.

She graced the two with a disgusted glance, finally stopping her frantic page turning. "read this." The book was thrust into Ron's lap.

By the end of it, they'd deduced that the dag was guarding the stone from Snape, and that it wasn't safe.

* * *

The next Quiddich match was refereed by the afore-mentioned Potions Professor, and Hermione was cheering right along with James and Lily for Harry, and therefore missed the fight that broke out between Ron and Draco, then the one that sprang up with Nev, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Harry caught the snitch after not five minutes. Hermione hugged everyone in sight, jumping up and down happily. Seamus joined into the hug fest, and the two ended up screaming, jumping, and embracing like a pair of five year olds destined for Disneyworld.

They eventually separated to pounce on other victims - erm, classmates.

A while afterwords, Hermione was at her hidden spot in the library, ripping another one into Draco for teasing Neville and fighting with Ron. Mme. Pomfrey had grudgingly patched the boys up and done the original correcting of behavior, but Hermione couldn't keep herself from going over it again with him.

Draco, for his part, _looked_ properly ashamed; then he brought her wrath back onto himself by telling her that the Weasle'd tackled him, and Short-For-Brains had bumbled into the way of his curse.

It took a long debate, but Hermione did finally agree that Draco would have to bully people to fulfill his father's expectations, and thus keep the school's social ladder thinking it was on stable ground. She didn't like this arrangement - not one bit - but it was what it was, so she let it be.

Their Sunday dancing was somewhat strained, though, until Draco tried and failed to lift her like a feather. How on earth that would make her laugh, Hermione wasn't sure, but it felt good to know that someone was in her secret. Well, _their_ secret - only one of hers.

Another secret of hers, in the form of one Lilian Potter, met up with her in the hall as she trotted to a brief lunch. Then, she'd be back to working with Draco, as was becoming a weekend tradition.

"How are you hon? We haven't seen much of you up in the tower, lately. Harry's been missing you."

Hermione snorted. "I highly doubt that the same can go for anyone outside the Potter clan, Lily. Besides, I've been so busy with all of the Sorcerer's Stone stuff that I can hardly get an acceptable night's rest, let alone socialization with those outside the dead."

"You better pull your head out of the books (or your feet out of those shoes), for this one. Harry needs a female to look after him, and I'd prefer one that notices when he's been absent for the last three plus hours..."

_"What?"_

"No worries, dear. Oh, here comes my husband."

James swung around a corner and barreled down their hallways. He sputtered to a stop and puffed, "Filch... Coming after... Twins... Down by kitchens... Secret passage... They don't know... About..."

"What were they doing down by the kitchens?" Lily wondered drily. "Getting snacks for the inevitable Gryffindor party, perhaps?"

"Yeah. Help them, Hermione." He dropped to his knees melodramatically. "Their lives are in danger - nay, I'd say their _social lives_ are in danger."

"Fine."

He sprang up. "I'll show you where to go."

And that's how Hermione Granger became friends with the Weasley Twins. Sometimes, a troll or death doesn't have to be the backdrop.

And then at the party when Harry informed her and Ron with wide eyes about what he'd seen when spying on Professors Quirrel and Snape, Hermione couldn't help but agree with Ron's ominous, "It'll be gone by next Tuesday."

* * *

**Yes, I'm going the Sorcerer's Stone route. I'm American. That's all that's available to me. Sorry.**

**And thanks to the reviewer who'd pointed out "Sorcer's" vs "Sorcerer's" Stone. I am insanely grateful to you.**


	10. Insodiouk

**I DON'T HAVE THIS ABC CHECKED ('CAUSE THE BUTTON WASN'T THERE - WEIRD, HUNH?), SO SEND ME A PM IF YOU FIND ANY PROBLEMS. PLEASE!**

**Disclaimer: *tilts head* What disclaimer?**

* * *

As the weeks went by, Hermione began studying more and more. Her daily practices got to be upwards of two hours at a time, and she was beginning to run longer and longer.

She and Harry were walking behind Ron to lunch one day about three months before the end of the year when it caught up to her.

* * *

Harry was having a pretty ho-hum day. He'd observed that Hermione had the tendency to disappear for most of the weekend, and she only came into the common room at curfew. She had large bags under her eyes anymore, too.

He was thinking on this when Hermione fainted. Just right out of the blue, fell to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Or, fell _towards_ the floor. His seeker reflexes came in handy, and he scooped her up before her skull could crack on the stone.

Predictably, Harry was mighty freaked out over how pale and tiny she was. Ron was already in the Great Hall for lunch, so he couldn't have noticed her sudden departure of body.

And then she was awake again, her eyes opened and looking somewhat shocked over this new change of position. "Harry?"

He may have made a sound reminiscent of "Hmm?" Possibly. He wasn't too sure.

"Why are you still holding onto me?"

Now, he blushed hardily and hastily stopped cradling her.

"Thanks. Sorry about that... It won't be happening again." The last sentence she didn't seem to be directing at him, even though she kept eye contact.

* * *

James had chewed her out for that, and told her that he would find a way to bar her from dancing and studying if she continued working at this pace.

Needless to say, she studied less, and went over her notes mentally as she stretched to the soft piano Mirror provided.

It was 5:15 on a Saturday when she was greeted by a semi-catamose Harry on a loveseat. Seeing his poor, sleep deprived form (and knowing that James and Lily were off somewhere), she let her motherly instincts take charge.

"Harry, have you slept yet?" She already knew that answer, and grabbed a nearby quilt to throw over him in preparation of forcing him to sleep.

"No. I think I'm an insodiuck."

She thew it over him and commenced tucking him securely into its folds.

"An insomniac, you mean?"

He huddled under the blanket, leaving her enough room to sit on the end by his head.

"Sure. Be' you don' have anythin' for that, Miss Granger."

She absently ran a hand through his hair, sifting through the inventories of her mind. He stretched out langorously in the meantime, finally ending with his head in her lap.

"_There are nights when  
sleep plays coy,  
aloof and disdainful.  
And all the wiles  
that I employ to win  
its service to my side  
are as useless as wounded pride,  
and much more painful._

"Maya Angelou, 'Insomniac'. Does that work for you?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"Good. Now, go off to bed, It's much more comfortable - especially when compared to my lap."

"I actually know a poem that might fit. I used to listen to Aunt Petunia read it to Dudley from the cupboard...

_Most Beds are Beds  
For sleeping or resting,  
But the _best _Beds are much  
More interesting!_

_Not just white little  
Tucked-in-tight little  
Nighty-night little  
Turn-out-the-light little  
Bed - _

_Instead  
A Bed for Fishing,  
__A Bed for Cats,  
A Bed for a Troupe of  
Acrobats._

_The _right _sort of Bed  
(If you see what I mean)  
Is a Bed that might  
Be a Subarine_

_Nosing through the water  
Clear and green,  
Silver and glittery  
As a sardine._

_Or a Jet-Propelled Bed  
For visiting Mars  
With mosquito nets  
For the shooting stars..."_

Hermione smiled as Harry trailed off to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, Harry," she murmured to his now-fully-catamose form, slipping carefully out from under his head. It was time to disconnect and shove her legs every last inch.

Breakfast with Cedric was a pleasant affair; Hermione felt quite comfortable around him now. It was on her way from the Malfoy studio that the odd happened. Hagrid was taking corners with a suspicious demeanor, and hid something behind his back on his crab-walking way by.

Draco dove behind a nearby suit of armour, hiding pathetically. Hagrid, who was evidently completely absorbed in his mission, didn't even notice the clattering.

"It's safe," Hermione muttered when the large man was out of sight. "What do you reckon Hagrid was trying to hide?"

"Don't ask me," Draco half-sang, skipping out of hiding. "I've never much liked the man..." He skipped in circles around her, humming some nameless tune. At the Great Hall, they parted with plans to work most of the day on Sunday.

"Hermione, you'll never guess what I saw in the library this morning," Harry whispered to her over his beef stew a little later.

She almost choked on the tail-end of her sandwich. "You were in the _library?"_ she gasped. "On a _Saturday?"_ Hermione put a hand to his head. "Are you okay? Feeling feverish?"

"Hagrid," Harry continued doggedly. "In the dragon section. Looking suspiciously flustered, and hiding something behind his back."

Her hand dropped. "Yeah, I saw him in the hallway by the Trophy Room."

"Why were you over there?"

Hermione shrugged noncommittally, biting into a new sandwich. Harry noted how ravenous she was carefully, since she'd only gotten like that since, say, Christmas time. "How was you Quidditch practice this morning?" she eventually asked.

"Ugh. Wood is giving us such a hard time anymore. We're _always_ working... D'you think we should visit Hagrid to check what he's up to?"

Nodding and popping the last of her sandwich into her mouth, she snitched a pear into her bag and stood. Following Harry and Ron out of the hall as best she could while still lugging the offensive bag, Hermione sent a small wave to Draco.

Surprisingly, it was Ron who first noticed her problem. And then he casted a simple_ Wingardium Leviosa_ to take the load off her shoulders, much to her shock and chagrin.

"Ron, you are a genius. Why on earth I never thought of that..."

Blushing, he muttered something intelligible. Especially when she came up to hook her arms through both his and Harry's.

Squinting up at the sun and smiling wide, she murmured, "Days like this make me want to dance - even more than normal."

"What?"

"Nothing, Harry. Today's just beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah... Are you okay?"

"Most certainly... Why does Hagrid have his fire going?"

"Aren't we heading there to find out?" Ron intoned.

"'Course. Who wants to knock?"

* * *

**Well, that's finished. To the dear reviewer who commented on how much I bash Ron - I'm not a Ron fan. Never have been. But I added in that last bit just for you - so feel special, I say! Very special.**

**Next chappie should be up by Sunday. With some hope, trust, and fairy dust. **

**I've got a new oneshot series I should be cranking out by the end of my summer break, so look out for it. Kinda a post-apoctialyptic look at the wizarding world. Each shot is inspired by a line or two of the poem 'If - ' by our dear Kipling. There's also a new fic in second person format that I have bouncing around in the wings. Wish me luck, since it's a whole new thing for me.**

**Love you all! 'Specially Kyna!**


	11. Snape Relates

**I'm sorry for the late-ness. My doc decided to repeatedly save nothing, and then get screwey. *bashes head against computer desk* UGGGGGGGH!**

**Disclaimer: *winks***

* * *

"A _dragon?_ Hagrid has a _dragon?_" James gasped. "What, Fluffy isn't enough for him?"

Hermione shrugged, flicking through her piles of notes and books on Flamel and co. "Ronald's in the Hospital Wing because it nipped his hand. Thank God Harry and I still have the chance to convince him to get rid of the thing."

"Yeah. Has Minnie been teaching you in her ballet room?"

"Nope. Mirror is. It's very interesting how complex of an animation charm was cast on it. I don't think I'd try it until third year - or later... What's this?"

Lily floated over. "_The Tri-Wizard Tournament?_ How'd you come across this?"

Hermione hefted up her volume - _Much Ado About Immortality and Glory: Staffs to Stones, Tournaments to Taunts_ - and quickly let it return to the table. "I was looking for the page that mentioned the Sorcerer's Stone. I think this Tri-Wizard-mingling idea is marvelous, but highly idiotic. Contestants are practically begging to be maimed. Remind me to study up on it later, 'kay?"

"Of course, honey. After all this Stone stuff."

"Thanks. Now..." Hermione glanced at her watch, and jumped out of her chair. "Class is staring in five. James, any shortcuts to Snape's Dungeons?"

She barely arrived on time, and was 'unwillingly' put with a 'hostile' Draco in penance. Snape's smug smirk turned befuddled when there was an almost... Dare he say it?... _Amicable_ feeling in the air about the pair as they went about making their potion.

Snape felt the color drain from her face at how well he could relate. He and Lily'd had the same bubble-like friendship subtly fan out around them when they worked with one another. At first, it was like Lily was his sister - someone to protect that could read his mind with but a look. Then their relationship had changed. For Draco's sake, Snape hoped that one would fall for the other.

But Snape saw his hopes crumble a little when Draco handed Miss Granger a knife without a word exchanged. He had been the same way with Lily.

The poor boy didn't know what he was charging into, falling for a Gryff. Especially one that Potter oh-so-obviously clung to at every opportunity. It was Lily and him all over again.

As expected, the Slytherin/Gryffindor duo were the first to finish, and with a perfect potion to boot.

Snape scowled, looking bat-like and man-eating, when Potter melodramatically ordered Draco to stay away from 'his friend'. What rubbish was that_? His friend_? The girl was not a piece of property, Potter, so get used to the interactions she'll inevitably have. The boy was an exact replica of James Potter; mooning over the first intelligent girl to cross his path.

Not if Snape had anything to do with it. Dumbledore be damned, Harry Potter was not going to have the charmed life his good-for-nothing father had. No. Oh no.

* * *

"Mimi?"

Hermione blinked and dropped out of an arabesque. "Yes?"

"You need a break." Draco crossed his arms, preparing for the small war that wold probably stem from this comment. "You're working yourself too hard. At this rate, that bush of yours will go grey by second year."

"My hair isn't _that_ bad."

"Ms. Granger, it is that bad," the Malfoy Mirror (MM, for short) piped up. "Why don't you let Master Draco's mother clean you up? Beauty charms were her specialty..."

"No."

Draco stepped forward. "Please, take a day off from ballet."

"But I wanna dance."

"I'll teach you ballroom dance if you stop for today."

A sigh. "Fine. What kind of shoes will I need?"

Two hours later, Hermione had the waltz, and was moving swiftly through the Foxtrot. MM would make the occasional note or instruction, but mostly stayed silent and watchful.

Their session ended with the agreement that they would take one day a week out to ballroom dance, the rest were to be dedicated to traditional ballet.

* * *

Harry was comfortably sunk deep into one of the good armchairs by the fire, since everyone else retired to their rooms about three hours ago. He was rather worried - Hermione hadn't come into the common room yet tonight, and curfew had come and passed nigh on three hours ago.

The portrait opened with a creak. Soft footsteps padded in.

"Hermione?"

She jumped and squeaked, clutching the satchel she was toting. "Harry?"

"It's past curfew."

"Yeah..." He watched as she glanced around a bit, as she tended to do now, before coming to perch lightly on the arm of his chair. "You should get some sleep."

"Too worried. Seamus had commented on how you weren't back yet, and words like 'Fluffy' and 'Filch' came to the front of my brain."

"Ah..." She tipped her head to the side, staring at him for a long minute. "You were serious about the cuddling, weren't you?"

He blushed and ducked his head. To his chest, he mumbled, "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon aren't exactly huggy..."

Harry jumped when she slid down to tuck herself into his side. Then, grabbing his arm, she brought it around her waist to end with his hand in hers on her lap. "This is cuddling."

It felt... Nice. Comfortable. Like he was guarding her, which was about as absurd as the thought of a man without a nose stepping out of a cauldron.

She sighed and moved so that her other arm was around his back.

They sat there like that for a long while, Harry feeling more and more like this was something he should get to do on a more regular basis.

* * *

**A day late. Total filler chappie. More fluff than a bucket of cotton candy. I know, I know. Quite sorry. At least I made it much longer than I thought I would. Be happy, please.**

**Love ya'll, 'specially Kyna!**


	12. Transportation of an Illegal Reptile

**My summer just started, so blame my lack of updates on it. Please?**

**Disclaimer: *sigh***

* * *

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she padded her was down the next morning. Maybe she should cut back on her time around Draco, though, beacuse six months ago, she wouldn't have been able to even _imagine_ dodging the metaphorical bullet Harry'd unintentionally fired at her. Let alone following through with her thrown together plot to divert his prying; no amount of time around Draco would be able to change her into a person who lied. Of that she was entirely certain.

"Honey, I'm asking you to do something that I've always wanted done."

Swiviling towards the green eyed redhead, Hermione tensed at her tone. She'd come to assocoiate it with books with wording that confused even _her_. Lily used that tone excluseively for maters to "stump you, hon, until next week".

"Will you go check in on Harry? I think he's in need of your assistance..."

A frown. "What's wrong with him?" Unconciously, she stepped towards the boys' staricase.

"Just go."

Lily appreciated the fact that Hermione left for her Harry without so much as a second thought, then followed the girl to the dorms.

She heard a gasp when Harry's nightmare contortioned body came into view. The woman had seen him look worse, though, and just stood back as Hermione didn't hesitate to conjure a cloth out of midair (_Quite a feat for a fifth year,_ Lily noted. _I remember James even having problems with it..._) and began dabbing his face dry.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry lost that nightmare induced pallor and relaxed into his sheets.

"How often does this happen?" Hermione's soft question jerked Lily back from her mental wanderings.

"Too."

"Ah." They shared a glance. "Call me next time."

"Will do."

* * *

Hermione was trying to sneak through the late night hallways. She and Harry were under the cloak, pressed rather closely for fear of their feet showing, going to Hagrid's to pick up Norbert and deliver him to one waiting Charley Weasley. James and Lily had decided to leave them for this trip (and Hermione had only barely convinced the Twins to stay in the common room) so they were totally on their own.

No matter what reassurances she gave herself, invisible things still lurked in the shadows. She grabbed Harry's hand on impulse.

Predictably, Harry stiffened at the extra contact.

Unpredictably, Harry didn't let go.

And then Hermione was bowled over by an absolutley obvious, 'in-your-face,-stupid' relization - Hagrid could bring his own dragon down to Charlie. Why on earth did he _have_ to enlist two _first year students_ to after hours transportation of an illegal reptile? It's like he was trying to get them expelled.

Freezing completely at this relevation, Hermione would've ended up in plain sight if Harry hadn't deftly twisted back into an almost _hugging_ stance to keep her under the cloak. And everyone knows Harry doesn't willingly hug. It just wasn't... Usual.

Harry frowned. "Hermione...?"

The girl in question blinked, thinking hard. Distantly, she murmured, "... Yes...?"

Harry recognized that look and gently began to guide her to thr grounds. She didn't snap out of it until he knocked on Hagrid's door, which made her jump and clutch his hand tighter until she gathered her bearings.

Tactfully, there was no mention of this. Possibly because Harry was blushing profusely. Just possibly.

Harry's cheeks were still red when they sat down at Hagrid's overlarge table, and up until Hermione revealed what had sent her into her daze.

Hagrid looked shocked at the concept of "cleaning up after himself" (as Hermione so bluntly put it), and agreed to give Norbert off himself.

Which left Harry and Hermione to retrace their steps - meeting a feverent Neville on the way. He calmed down when Hermione began explaining that _no,_ they weren't taking Hagrid's dragon back, _no, _Filch hadn't caught them yet, and _yes,_ Harry and she were really just out on a walk.

Harry was left with nothing to do but nod and squeeze Neville in on Hermione's other side.

And then McGonagall came, Filch creeping along behind.

Hermione squeaked and folded even more into Harry's side, slipping an arm around his waist to maintain some sort of balance. Neville shoved a fist into his mouth to stop the giggles when Harry subconciously pulled her tightly to his chest and went about rubbing her back soothingly. No matter what people thought, Neville knew that his bet wold be the one that won.

"I cannot believe this nonsense about a dragon in the castle..." he heard Professor McGonagall mutter on her way by.

* * *

It was another day in potions. Snape had given Hermione a near permanent partner in Draco (which neither much minded) and had seated Harry and Neville right behind them.

"What are the properties of a hawthorn root?" Snape sneered to the class.

Hermione, as always, nearly flew out of her seat to answer. Correctly, of course.

It was then that many would sware that the world stopped turning. That Merlin was on his way to streak through the Great Hall in all of his saggy glory. That Salazar Slytherin turned in his posh grave. That a twitchy man with a turban, named Quirrel, was about to announce his impending Death By Love. **(1)**

Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, Protector of Predjudice, and All Around Slimeball... Awarded Gryffindor ten points.

Neville fainted dead out.

Thus knocking his and Harry's potion towards Hermione, who was shoved out of the way by Draco. Both landed on the floor, Hermione under him.

Harry leapt in with a roar ("MALFOY! GET OFF HERMIONE! _NOW!"_) and ripped the blonde away from her.

The rest of the class was dumbstruck. Still. But whether or not from this newest display of OOC-ism or the fact that scrawny little Harry had sucessfully vaulted over a very thick desk and the six or so feet separating him from the pair on the floor, no one was quite sure.

And then: "Potter, Malfoy, Longbottom, Granger; detention with Filch tonight for misbehavior and disruption in my class."

Somehow, Hermione managed to jump up, separate Harry and Draco, and clap a hand over the raven haired boy's mouth before he could begin on the unfairness of it all.

No small feat, I'll tell you that.

* * *

**(1):  
****A voice yells from the crowd: "Is the man named Quirrel or is the turban named Quirrel?"  
I just grin and thank darling E. C. R. Potter for his brilliance.**

**Well, that's that. I'm no farther than this, so there is little chance of an update in your future. I sware to whatever God you believe in that I will update at least once a month. The chappies previous to this one will be cleaned up, and I _need_ you people to tell me where my spelling mistakes are. Otherwise, they won't be cleaned until I finish with first year...**

**Which I plan to do by the end of this summer. *cheers like a lunatic, getting suspicious looks from the rest of family***

**Oh, yes, I wanna talk about something in this chappie, so I get no PMs complaining. **

**Hermione spends a lot of time with Draco. As such, she is picking up some of his Slytherin thinking ("Why on earth did he _have_ to enlist two _first year students_ to after hours transportation of an illegal reptile?" for example.) but she is still thinking it through first. She isn't blindly loyal, seeing no other way than 'Oh, I guess Harry and I _have_ to go bring Norbert to Charlie, 'cause Hagrid is unable to do it'... Now she can think things through differently, see it from an angle that will be of much help later on.**

**Now, I had some reviewer complained that I'm not keeping it 'Harmony enough'. For you, dear: **

**Look, I can't have Harry and Hermione attached at the hip. Honestly, as an author with her own self-respect and personal vendetta against fics like that, I JUST CAN NOT!**

**Hermione is her own person; she's strong and self-sufficient. Harry can't rely on her 24/7, 'cause he's used to the 'Dursley Life', I guess you could say. Y'know: no friends, you're-on-your-own, and keep-that-freakishness-to-yourself kind of life. **

**Yes, their friendship is strong, but not that _needy and clingy_. Both will _have_ to learn to exist without one another, so when they co-exist it doesn't turn into a whole possessive downward spiral. Lord knows Hermione wouldn't stand for a man who is A) stuck to her side or B) all like 'Where're you going?', 'What're you doing?', and 'Who's gonna be with you?'... The same goes for Harry - he's shown that he needs someone who isn't gonna hang over him but is still gonna include him in her life. **

**So. Yeah.**

**My 100th review (I really never thought I'd ever get to say that, y'know?) is comming up. That reviewer will recieve a bare-bones version of second year. If the reviewer isn't one I can PM, well, oh crap.**

**The same'll happen every fifty reviews. Goldfishies, I never thought I'd be able to say that.**

**Love you guys, 'specially Kyna.**


	13. Baked in Detention

**Don't hate on me for the lack of updates, for I apoligize for my absence and promise (once again) that it will not continue to happen. **

**Disclaimer: *sobs***

* * *

Harry glared at Draco from across the Great Hall; Draco glared back at him. Hermione was anxious, since their detention was scheduled for eight-thirty tonight, and she really needed to ramble her thoughts straight - but save her energy at the same time, ruling ballet out.

Which is why she found herself heading to the kitchens in hopes of finding Mimzi, some bread to take her frustrations out on, and a way to relieve the burden of her thoughts. Aunt Bea's only child was a chef, and he'd taught her how not to burn water and (eventuially) just how soothing cooking can be when she got exhausted from dancing or running a mental marathon into the wee hours.

And right now, Hermione needed something soothing, otherwise she was gonna loose her mind.

Tickling the pear, she was greeted with the familiar sight of house-elves rushing around. Mimzi appeared, scrutinized her expression, nodded to herself, and led Hermione to an open table already stocked with what she'd need to create dough. No words exchanged.

Muttering as she mixed ingredients, she mulled over the fact that _she_, Hermione Granger, had been given a detention. The first detention in her life.

Unbeknownst to her, Cedric had been called in from the Puff commons to 'check on Miss Mione's rambling' by Mimzi, and was now watching her borderline violent stirring with mild fear.

In all his months of knowing her, he'd never seen her this... Unbound. She was always collected, witty. Now Cedric could only hear bits of seemingly random mutters as she worked.

It was a little disconcerning.

"Jean?"

He was rewarded with a short glance.

"Is this about the detention Snape gave you?"

Hermione began to knead the bread with a little more force than strictly necessecary. "How dare he? And we're assigned to the Forbidden Forest, no less?"

"You, Harry Potter, Longbottom, ad Malfoy have detention _in the Forbidden Forest?_ Is Snape _mad?_"

Cedric actually stepped back when he heard the dark chuckle come out of her mouth. "No. He's devious, meanspirited, predjudice, cruel, bigoted - but he is not mad. Far from it."

"But... Why a forest chocked full of dark creatures, then?"

"And after dark?" She twisted slightly to look at him. "No idea. I'd say he wants Harry and Nev maimed, but not Draco."

Cedric cocked his head. "Draco? You call that slimeball Malfoy, _Draco_?" _Well, _this_ is interesting..._

"Yes, I do." She paused to drop her first completed loaf into a glass pan, then turned to trap him in a piercing gaze. "This is a secret, Cedric Oliver Diggory, so discuss it with no one. I support interhouse friendships, and find this school highly lacking in such a view. Draco and I are good friends; we have been for a while now. We have this hidden, and it will stay as such until we see fit."

"I won't say a word." Cedric raised his right hand. "I sware on Hufflepuff Pride."

She smiled somewhat at him, still half in her thoughts. "Thanks." There was a few minutes as she simply made bread and he watched. "I know it sounds really odd, Oli, but will you pull my hair back? It keeps swinging before the dough, and I despise hairs in my bread."

_Yeah, she's definitley different_, Cedric mused as he transfigured a ribbon from a spoon. No girl knew (or used) his middle name, and no girl asked him to put her hair back for her unless she was trying some useless ploy to flirt with him. And it was plain to see that Hermione Granger just needed someone to pull the frizz away from her eyes.

Sometimes, he really couldn't believe that someone like her actually existed.

Not that he would admit it to Mason, but he often found himself waking up early just to talk and eat with her. Finding out how she saw the world was one of his lifetime goals, which sounded pathetic but was quite true. Someday, he was detirmined to find out why she would become so distant at random times, too, which was even more pathetic.

"D'you know how to make and bake bread?" she asked suddenly, tossing it over her shoulder casually.

"No."

Hermione graced him with a bright smile. "I'll teach you tomorrow morning." She hesitated. "If you want, that is."

"I'd love to."

Tomorrow was Saturday, so he could probably stay out until lunch and no one would think it odd. Good.

* * *

"Harry..."

Hermione was holding his hand tightly, her eyes wide and doe-like. Hagrid was ahead of them, crossbow over his shoulder and lantern lighting the way ahead.

"Yes, Mione?"

"There's red sparks." She was pointing with a lightly shaking hand towards a red spell's lingering sparks.

Hagrid cursed and charged into the underbrush, dragging back a snickering Draco Malfoy and a white-as-a-sheet Neville Longbottom. The former didn't seem to be too affected by Hagrid's brisk words, while the latter was cowering into Hermione's side by the end of it.

Harry nearly snarled when Malfoy said, "Why don't I just take Granger, then, if Longbottom's gonna get scared and Potter's gonna whine?" Hagrid merely bristled.

"No, Hagrid, I'll go with him." Hermione smiled somewhat reassuringly. "If he tries anything, I'll hex him into next month."

Grumbling, Hagrid let them leave. Harry watched her back until even the faint light of their lantern was no longer disconcernable from the surrounding trees. Then he twitched occasionally, imagining what could happen to Hermione.

Draco and Hermione, meanwhile, found nothing particularily suspicious... Until a very dead unicorn came into view.

"Mimi..." Draco had an arm through hers, and he'd stopped abruptly at the sight, forcing her to do the same.

"Yeah." She pivoted the both of them away from the body, then sent up a bunch of golden sparks. They turned into the word _FOUND_ above their heads. "I know."

"How...?" He couldn't even finish.

"Something evil, Dray. Something evil."

"Is it still around?"

A quick charm. "Nothing but bugs and birds."

"Why is its blood silver?"

"Purity."

Quietly, they stood together. It felt like a moment that words shouldn't break.

Which, of course, is when Hagrid charged out of the underbrush (Draco dove away from Hermione that way no one would start to get the truth) calling "'ERMIONE? MALFOY?"

Harry came flying out after him, nearly colliding with Hermimone in his rush to get to her. Then he held her at arms' length, inspecting her for reasons to hate Malfoy's slimy Slytherin guts even more.

"Are you okay?" he asked eventually, not noticing Neville shoving a fist in his mouth to keep from outwardly laughing at the pair. Again. "Did Malfoy get at you?"

"I'm fine, Harry." She pulled out of his grasp, making sure she had his eyes. "Honestly: I. Am. Not. Hurt."

* * *

The Common Room was bright and cheery; a stark contrast to Harry's brooding and Hermione's exasperation, which you wouldn't think either emotion was even in the air between the two as she settled comfortably into his side and he wrapped an arm around her without a second thought.

Lily and James were seated much the same way, discussing something Hermione didn't bother to listen in on. Ron was trying unsucessfully to teach Lavender Brown and Janice Harrows how to play 'proper chess'. Dean Thomas and Lindsay Criship, self-appointed artistic pair of the Gryffindor population, were laboring over the next quiddich banner - he was in charge of the lion, she of the team's faces.

And then Hermione had to voice the question. The one that sent Harry off the deep end of protective.

"It was V-Voldemort." She stumbled on the name at the beginning, but soldiered on, detirmined to get her point across. "_He_ drank the blood. To prolong his life..." She turned her head a bit, pinning Harry under her stare. "Until he could get past Fluffy and the other protectors _and to the Stone_."

For a minute, he stared dumbly at her.

First, for somebody else (other than the Headmaster) saying the dreaded 'V-Word'.

Second, because there was a very serious voice in his head murmuring "_Hermione's **always** right, Potter._", which he took as either A) Some God deciding to shoo the floundering boy in the right direction, or B) his brain telling him, point blank, to listen to Hermione.

_Aaaaaaaand..._ Third, _Hermione was shaking._ Why in Merlin's name was she shaking?

This was very new territory for the youngest Potter, who had never dealt with an emotional girl. What was he supposed to do, give her chocolate? Hug her? Rub her back?

The lattest sounded safest, so that was he he did.

"Harry, why are you quivering? And clawing at my back?"

Wait...

What?

Harry glanced down at his free hand. It wasn't steady. Hm. So Hermione wasn't being all _girly_... He was. Merlin, _that's_ embarassing.

Worriedly, Hermione turned to him. He saw her eyes comb him, finally coming to rest on his face. Features twisting for a second, she nearly climbed onto his lap and just wrapped him in her arms.

Really, really embarassing.

Especailly since he couldn't help himself from digging his head deep into her plentiful locks, and simply closing his eyes to breathe. Unbidden, his arms clutched her, despite the shakes.

Ron watched this spectacle with a crinkled nose, then tottered off to his brothers to place his bid. Lindsay held her hand out to Dean, who grumbled and forked over his new box of pastelles in loss of their short term betting arrangements. Lavender's squeal of delight was quieted by Seamus, who really wished they'd wait another week before they started holding hands. A toilet-plunger-esque, _squeeeklach_ noise signaled the joining of two seventh years' attentions to see if they were the ones who got lucky and won the entire, admirably sizeable pot.

The pair on the couch either didn't notice or didn't bother to.

Soon enough, people got bored of the pair, and returned to whatever they were doing. Lindsay patted her new box of drawing utensiles with a ditzy, triumphant smile to Dean, who stuck his tounge out at her before going back to his shading of the mane. Seamus returned to his dreaded potions homework. Ron, Janice, and Lavender continued with the lessons. The two seventh years drowned their sorrows down eachother's throats.

When Harry calmed down to what Hermione deemed a suitable amount, she began. "Harry, Vol-oldemort has only ever been afraid of one person - Dumbledore. With Dumbledore _here_, he wouldn't dare to touch you. Or even enter the school. You'll be fine."

She tried to pull back, but found it impossible when Harry clutched her tighter. This was the first comfort he'd ever gotten from an embrace, as far as he could remember, and he sure as a blast-ended skrewt wouldn't let it go lightly. Or easily.

It wasn't too long after Harry, Hermione, and Ron were the last ones left in the Commons that Harry decided to let Hermione free. After standing to stretch (because a dancer's muscles hold protests after too much inactivity, Hermione snuggled once again into his side, running her hand up and down his slightlyhunched back to reassure him and simultaniously chase off his shivers.

The trio talked until day break, swapping theories and rumors and knowledge on the Stone and Voldemort. Knowing that she'd pay for her lack of z-catching, Hermione agreed with James' murmur "to just go to bed".

* * *

Cedric was starting to get real ansy. Hermione Granger was nowhere to be found, last seen by him exiting the Kitchens after offering him lessons, and... Looking like death warmed up in the Great Hall in the last ten minutes of breakfast?

Not thinking on the reprecussions, he made a B-line for her and her little friend, who didn't seem to be fairing much better, what with his jumpiness, bed head, and blatant dislike for anyone who came near him or (most especially) her. She seemed to be trying to soothe him, but then sighed and began preparing two platters. He started a bit, then helped her complete the plates before placing one and a cup of what looked like the American coffee she'd admitted her addiction to on the table space in front of her.

It was actually kinda eeiry to watch two people - especially a pair of not-so-chipper eleven year olds - move so syncronized-ly, Cedric decided.

Just a little too late, he noticed that this twitchy, messy haired, completely-on-guard-for-threats, helper-of-Hermione was none other than Harry Potter. _The_ Harry Potter.

Steeling his loyalty to Hermione (and taking solace in the fact that the Hall was nearly empty of prying eyes and ears), Cedric dropped down next to Hermione.

Harry Potter was leaned around her, wand outstretched, before Cedric could even greet her. "Who are you and why are you here?"

Well. That certainly wasn't the kind of impression he wanted to leave on The-Boy-Who-Lived.

"Calm down, Harry. This is Cedric Diggory, third year Hufflepuff."

"Why are you _here_? Next to Mione?" he demanded, wand still out. "And how do you know her?"

If he were any other first year (excluding Hermione, who was more like a fourth or fifth year in the Puff's mind), Cedric wouldn't have found this position at all intimidating... But this was _the_ Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, leveling a wand at him, and Cedric fancied it to be rather fair that he was a little fearful.

With a small huff of impatience, Herminoe shoved Harry's wand arm back to his side. "He's not Voldemort in disguise, so stop."

"Your detention didn't go well, did it?"

She turned to him, flashing a very tired smile. "Well, I'm still alive. And I'll explain to you later, so don't start freaking out." She dipped her toast in the bitter liquid, and popped it in her mouth. Offering him a slice of bacon, she continued. "Oli, I'm just a little tired, so its not like refusing some of my food is gonna get me killed. I skipped my morning run, anyways, so that makes up for it a bit."

Harry Potter was glaring at him so hard, Cedric didn't dare to sneak a bite of eggs off her plate, and sat semi-silently until she finished breakfast, hugged The-Boy-Who-Lived good-bye, and pulled him by the wrist back down to the kitchens.

Quirrel was there, looking shaky and drained. Cedric hid Hermione behind him as they crab walked by the almost-catamose, babbling incoherrrently, not-looking-too-hot Professor. Something about that man made the hair on the back of his neck stand, and the feeling was amplified this morning by some unknown force. Thus his wanting to keep Hermione hidden from the man's view.

Mimzi seemed to understand, and led them over to a little nook that was included in this Kitchen for the story's purposes. Like last night, an array of baking ingredients was layed out, this time to make cinnamon bread.

"Something about Quirrel is _off_, no?" Cedric asked as she began separating ingredients.

"Yes. I've felt it all year. Especially when he turns his back to us in the classroom. It's like a blast of malicious intent on everything in there..." She held out some flour, sugar, and other white substances. "Ready?"

"Sure."

* * *

**Hmm. Sorry, but that's that. Another chappie should be up by the end of the week. Hopefully. It seems likely now, seeing as a bunch of ideas for What If? have taken root in my mind, and I feel the urge to type them out. **

**111? Ho-ley Crepe-paper, people, I love you. So much. How on earth that many reviews made it to a story written by little ol' moi, I'll never know. But, as I promised, 150 gets a rundown of What If? II (name still pending... I'mma gonna need some help with it...). **

**Kyna: I LUFF YOU! SORRY I HAVEN'T REPLIED, BUT THE INBOX MESSES WITH MY SMALL BRAIN! **

**The Rest of Ya'll: I just heard the Deathly Hallows Pt II commercial, and I'm about to the level of a rabid squirrel waiting for Friday, when it comes to the movies. I know I won't be able to watch unless I get a ride to town, which is about as likely as me gettin' a functional brain. *wails, attracting odd looks from the fire fighter boys out in the b-ball field, holding their drunken version of the highland games* WHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYY?**


	14. Potter's Spawn and a Massive AN

**As of July 10th, 2011:**

***screams, overcome by sheer nerdliness and joy* I GOT A FUNCTIONAL BRAIN AND A RIDE! I'M GOING! *begins to do a wiggling dance in computer chair* DOWN IN TOWN, THEY'RE HAVING _ALL OF THE HARRY POTTER MOVIES_ BEING SHOWN _IN THE THEATRE!_ IN ONE MASSIVE MARATON! **

***frowns* My sister and I were invited to get a ride by one of our mutual friends. My sister wasn't gonna tell me until she was leaving for her (the friend's) house, thus forcing me out of my invite. I'm about ready to pummel the brat (my sis). I've been in the roll of fill-in-mom since ours took a vacation to MI, and she _knows_ that I'm dying to see the HPs in theatres, since we missed a good number of them. So. She repays me by trying to make me miss the opening night? *wipes an angry tear* What kind of little sissy is _that_?**

***coughs* Anyways. Rant over. Sorry for boring you.**

**Disclaimer: *throws a blasting hex* **

**The results:**

**D - - cl - i - - - r**

**There. Heh.**

* * *

James watched bemusedly as his son flipped through book after book of quotes and poems. The lack of proper sleep was becoming more apparent by the page, and even Lily had left to take a nap almost three hours ago. Hermione looked to be the only one who could act like she'd gotten a full night's rest - _It was probably the muggle coffee_, James mused - and had scampered off after breakfast with that Diggory fellow to do whatever it was she did on Saturdays.

Half-heartedly, he also noted that Harry _should _be studying for the very-close,-as-in-next-week year end exams. With every failing student, the Gryffs would loose points, and even though Gryffindor was almost 200 points ahead of Slytherin, much thanks to Hermione's status as teacher's pet and the ten-point rewards Flitwick and Sprout both gladly gave per correct answer, they _could_ still loose. Somehow. But the House Cup _was_ comfortably in reach.

At the moment, however, Hermione was trying and failing not to giggle as she learned the tango. MM was beginning to sound quite gay, with all the jabbering about correct hip swaying and the importance of a sache.

And the heels certainly weren't helping her campaign to keep a straight face - she towered a good three-and-a-half inches over Draco, and until he had a growth spurt she would continue to do so.

Plus, the bright red, way-too-tall-for-a-girl-her-age, strappy-as-heck stilettoes MM had insisted she learn to "passionately adore, _da-a-a-ahrling_" were absolutely ridiculous. Only through sheer force of will (and an absurd amount of practice), had Hermion elearned to properly walk, run, jump, piviot, and generally not maim herself in those shiny death traps.

"So, Dray - " Hermione paused to pull off a turn that'd been taunting her for weeks " - ballet after lunch?"

"Nah." He spun her prettily. "I want to get this down before the summer hols."

"Mmm, 'kay. But maybe after dinner Monday...?"

He hummed an agreement while MM corrected her footing and his lack of blocked hips.

* * *

Ahh. A Sunday breakfast after a long, hard run was certianly the sweetest. Especialy when in good company. Cedric had already poured her coffee - black, just as she liked it - and buttered whatever bread product Mimzi had prepared for her.

"Morning," Hermione murmured slipping into the only open seat at their relatively tiny table in the back corner. "How's your weekend so far?"

He pushed the cup over to her side. "That crazy purple girl from your dorms keeps following me, asking about my intentions towards... Well, I dunno, since I ran off... But it was still scary, Jean."

"Now you know how I feel in the mornings." Adopting a shrill voice: "'_Ohhh, Hermie, how did you mamage to catch Harry Potter aaaaaand Cedric Diggory?'_ Or, possibly: '_Can I do your hair, Hermie? I'm sure it won't be so bushy with some beauty potions... And your makeup, pretty, pretty, preeeeetty peeeeaseeeeee?_'" She paused, gadging his expression over the rim of her cup. "And, my all time favorite (so far, anyways): '_Hermie, can you get me some of Cedric and Harry's haaaaiiiiir?_' Yeah, she actually had the gall to ask."

Cedric looked downright horrified. "What?" he squeaked. "Are the rest of the girls - that other blonde one, the black haired one, maybe? - like... That?"

"Ah. No. Lindsay Criship - the blonde one, Oli - is more into drawing than males. Janice is the same with her music. They keep to themselves, mostly. Sometimes Lindsay'll work with Dean Thomas on the quiddich banners for Harry and the team, and Janice taught me a very useful charm for warmups once she got done with playing her flute with that one boy in Ravenclaw - Jason? Roland? - and, anyways, they're both really nice."

"Neither are after my hair?"

She snorted and patted his hand. "Neither are after your hair."

"Good. I've gotten enough from the little first years in my house. They gater around me in droves." He struck a dramatic pose. "I can hardly stare at your beautiful face from across the hall, my lovely. It has brought me such sorrow."

Hermione was caught between laughing and blushing. "Don't flatter, Oli. It's mean."

"Flatter? I do no such thing, my sweet."

Seeing her eyes narrow, he started backtracking. He hadn't meant to make her _angry_. Who knows just what curses she'd come across in those ancient texts...

And then she pulled a pose mirroring his, and psedo-depressed look on her face. "Oh Oliver, my dearest Oliver, I could never compare to _your_ manly beauty." She grinned cheekily at his shocked dumb expression.

Oh. It was on. **(1)**

"Jean, my lovely Jean, how could you _say_ such a wounding thing? My manliness could never withstand your femine charm. And your looks make Veela cry."

Now it was an unspoken race to make the other blush first. It was near 8:45 when they began leaving.

"Until tomorrow, my lovely lady." Cedric caught her wrist and layed down the trump card - kissing her hand. When he looked up hopefully... He found her pursing her lips to hold back laughter and not blushing one bit. Dang.

"Until tomorrow, my lowly lord."

It was amazing how a few hours time, he'd managed to gain an almost brotherly affection for her, and simultaniously flirted shamelessly without so much as a second thought. Hm. Odd. Shouldn't it be the opposite - they flirted and he moved from brotherly feelings to a crush? Eh. He rather preferred it this way, since Potter was less likely to kill him in his sleep.

On a completely diferent note, he'd have to contact the Weasley Twins about getting down his bet. Second year...

* * *

"Mione?"

Harry watched her walk through the Fat Lady's portrait, humming tunelessly, and unceremoniously dump herself on the end of his couch. Looking mildly surprised to see him, she murmured quietly, "Hey Harry. You're up early."

He scooted over to her and, hesitating just a moment, pulled her into his side. She slumped in gratefully, looking ready for a nap. Harry debated with himself, then pulled her half into his lap and let her drop her head onto his shoulder.

Arms around her and fighting a stupid grin, Harry cleared his throat. "And why should I miss these vital hours of the only day a week you put aside to spend time with me, eh?"

"You shouldn't." She yawned. "Sorry if I fall asleep on you. It's a lucky thing that no one bothers to get up before the crack of noon - gives me time to rest up for the day ahead."

"What is _this?_ I've always thought better of you, Miss Granger."

"Hush up, Mister Potter. I'm trying to nap here."

"Yes, love."

Hermione's head jerked up, not feeling much tired anymore. "Pardon?"

Blushing and looking at anything but her, he blathered something about Seamus telling him that guys sometimes called their close female friends 'love', and he thought it fit, 'cause she was his best friend and a girl, and he was really sorry that he'd overstepped his bounds, and he wasn't ever gonna do that kind of thing again, and he didn't wanna loose her as a friend, and he was gonna miss the cuddling, and he _was_ really sorry, and, and, and -

"It's fine, Harry." She relaxed back onto him. "I thought you meant something else by it..."

"What else could I mea - " Harry cut himself off. "I don't wanna know, do I?"

"Nope," Hermione mumbled sleepily into his neck, having relaxed after the first or third sorry. "May I go to sleep now?"

"Yes, love."

Not bothering to mask her snort, Hermione leaned into him further and easily dropped to sleep.

A few minutes later, Harry followed her example and drifted off... His stupid grin did break out, though...

...

Harry awoke slowly, feeling quite comfortable. He was warm, probably from the blanket, and he was holding something to his chest. That something had a lot of bushy hair, and many strands of it curled frizzily into his face. The afternoon sun on his eyelids eventuially got him to squint around.

To eyes. Lots of eyes. From all sides.

Instinctively, Whatever-He-Was-Holding was swiped between him and the back of couch and he was reverting to the Dursley Times - sit still, make no noise, and hope to whatever's out there that the eyes won't take Whatever-He-Was-Holding away in spite. **(2) **'Cause whatever it was, he really liked having a dreamless sleep and it seemed to make that happen. Thus his reluctance to let Whatever-He-Was-Holding go, even if it was securely pressed into his back and fisting the back of his shir -

Pause.

What?

In his stillness, he noticed that Whatever-He-Was-Holding was breathing softly. That fact was proven by the soft blowing on the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end and him want to squirm away from the tickling sensation. Add the fact Whatever-He-Was-Holding was latched onto the back of his shirt... And Whatever-He-Was-Holding became _Whom_ever-He-Was-Holding. The frizzy curls confirmed his suspicions: This was his Mione.

How on earth'd Hermione'd gotten into his cupperboard was beyond him, but he sure as Merlin wasn't gonna let Dudley get to her. So he made sure she was protected from view fully by his scrawny body before thinking on a plan to sneak Mione out before Vernon or Dudley could spot her. The front door was too risky...

Pause II.

There's light in the room. Which rules his cupperboard out of the list of places he could be. So. Where was he?

Harry almost slapped himself. The Common Room. He'd falled asleep with Mione earlier this morning after she'd come back from her breakfast and whatever else she did so obnoxiously early in the mornings.

So now he'd been subjected to a typical Gryffindor Wake Up, and she'd luckily slept through the ordeal. Thank Merlin, 'cause this was embarassing enough already.

"Should we - "

" - collect the bets - "

" - for these - "

" - two love birds from - "

" - the other Houses?" Fred and George asked the Commons at large.

"What?" Harry squawked.

"The bets - "

" - of course."

"What bets?"

"Well, there _are_ - "

"- many different types."

"First kiss."

"First in-front-of-school-hug."

"First act of jealousy."

"First newspaper article."

"First date."

"First hand holding in the halls."

"First PDA."

"First PDD."

"First snog."

"First time you bash that Malfoy's face in for insulting your dearly beloved."

"First time you snap and pummel Snape for insulting your beloved."

"First pet names."

"First proclimations of love."

"First embarassing Valentines cards."

"First squishy, no-one-else-is-in-the-room incident."

"And where it happens, Fred."

"Yes, of course. How could I forget?"

"Easily, Georgie... First time you announce she's the most beautiful person you've ever seen."

"First major fight... This one has almost nothing on it, right George? After all, I'm Fred."

"No you aren't."

"Yeah, Fred, I am."

Mione groaned from behind/under Harry. "Shut up, the lot of you, or I sware I'll curse you all into oblivion and back."

People began to scuttle away, recognizing the truth in her tone, and the Twins only grinned as she pulled Harry out of his protective stance, off of her, and snuggled into his side, not embarassed in the slightest by his closeness. Harry turned red enough to make Ronald proud, but went on with her not-so-subtle prompting without complaint.

"What's PDD, by the way, Forge?"

There was a minute where the Twins did nothing but gape at her. "You... Just... Outsmarted us...?" Thye asked simultaniously.

"Yes. It's not that hard, honestly."

The boys shared a look as Harry got situated as his Mione's pillow (he didn't much mind the job).

"Why?"

She raised a single eyebrow. "I got tired of your constant name switches, so until I can tell you apart without the shadow of a doubt, you'll be Forge and Gred. Now neither of you can say you're the other twin. It works out well... For me, anyways." She gave them both a wicked smirk. "Now, what is PDD?"

"Possessive Display of Dumbness," 'Forge' told her. "Harry is the one that bet's focused on, for the most part."

"I wonder why..." Seeing Harry's already-drooping-eyelids, she knew he wouldn't even think of hitting back. Score.

"Gred?"

"Yes, Forge?"

"I rather like this girl."

"As do I. If only we were younger, eh Gred?"

"I thought I was Gred."

"Nope, you're Forg - "

"Quiet, Harry's almost asleep."

After this, Harry knew no more. 'Cause he fell to sleep, of course.

* * *

Severus Snape was in a particularily pleasant mood. He'd mentally scarred one little Puff from a verbal lashing, taken about 75 points for absolutely no reason, failed a few Gryffindorks, and kept most of his thoughts away from his rather joyless past. Add in the fact that it was a Monday morning, only two days before testing, and he only had so long before the term was over.

Of course, he'd had to have the spawn of Satan first thing that morning for a double period. Well, the Spawn of Potter. Eh. They were the same in Severus' dictionary, anyways.

At the moment, the boy was practically drooling over Miss Granger between glares of absolute _loathing_ to those in a three-to-five foot radius of her. The boy was obviously insane, and it was a point Severus was trying vhemtly to prove to the Headmaster so that Potter's Spawn would no longer have to be in his view. It was his newest hope.

Quietly, Severus wondered if the slob of a boy would grab her and start petting her, muttering to himself, "My _preciousssssssssss, _my _preciousssssssss..._" and twitching occasionally.

It certainly wouldn't be the first time Severus'd seen a Potter do so.

Now, the real entertainment came when Miss Granger accidently sliced her finger.

Draco had grabbed her hand immediatly, scanning for any other abraisons. Potter's Spawn zeroed in on this and came out swinging. The Stupidest Weasley Yet, as Severus so _lovingly_ referred to Ronald, merrily joined the brawl, assisted by the bumbling Longbottom when Crabbe and Goyle lumbered into the fray.

For a minutes, Severus watched their petty punches, a smirk on his face. Then: "Twenty-five points from Gryffindor." When they showed no intentions of stopping: "For each individual interrupting."

Distantly, the thunder of 175 rubies flying out of the bottom of the Gryffindor hourglass was heard. The fighting came to and abrupt and dead halt. Then, fast as lightning, they boys flew back to their seats, since Miss Granger had already slipped into hers sometime during the little tiff.

The Gryffindorks' faces showed that they knew a bad, bad thing had just happened. Their lead was virtually nonexistant.

Severus scanned the room, looking at their tiny faces and trying his best to not cackle. They were apparently too shocked to be angry. When he came to Miss Granger, he expected tears. Or at least something that wasn't what she was doing. I.E.: Looking just over his shoulder, and shaking her head.

Mouthing. The. Word. _Lily._

_How did she know about...?_ He made a strangled sound between a terrified gasp, disgusted growl, and a horrified belch.

"Seventy-five points from Gryffindor, Granger. Never say that word in my class. In fact - keep your insufferable, oversized, prattling, intolerable, hideous, self-centered, whiny, disgusting, know-it-all, buck toothed trap _shut_ for the rest of the period of I'll - "

He was cut off by the slamming of a door and the faint heave of a sob.

_Serves her right._

_... Right?_

Severus wasn't so sure, seeing the reaction of the class. Even the Slyths were glaring at him.

In fact, he spotted Pansy Parkinson, infamous for her daily tauntings of Miss Granger, giving him a '_You done wrong, man. You done real wrong._' expression and crossing her arms. That annoying Brown was giving him much the same look, her lips pursed in a distinctly McGonagall fashion and turned down at the sides. A voice exactly like Lily's was screeching at him, angrier than hed ever heard her.

Another voice, this one eerily reminiscent of that Black prat, piped up in his head. _Oooooh, Snivellus, how _did_ you manage to turn even the Slyths against you? How does it feel, ol' Snotty Boy?_ It laughed quite aggrivatingly, echoing around in his brain. _Better do some damage control, Snapple._

Eye twitching, Severus replied, _I don't need to._

_You're gonna be skinned alive if you don't. Looks like James' son is ready to lead that proposition._

His right side began to twitch too. _I hate you, Black._

_Of course you do, Sevvy-kins. Of course you do. _

Another disgusted growl slipped out, and all the twitching doubled. "In apology for my words to Miss Granger, I award Gyffindor fifty points."

Black gave a triumphant bellow, while Potter's Spawn made an angered one. "YOU TOOK 100 FROM HERMIONE ALONE!"

_Ooooh, Harry has a point. He's quite in love with her already, is he not?_

_Die, Black, die. Even in Azkaban, you refuse to get out of my head._

_Harry's waiting for a reply, Sir Snivells A Lot._

_Diiiiieeeeeeeee. Oh, and... _"Shut up, Potter. This is your only warning."

The boy glared at him, then gathered both his and Miss Granger's supplies, and left.

* * *

Choking on tear, Hermione barreled into Professor McGonagall's third yead, Gryff/Puff transfiguration lesson, beyond caring that there was a class in session. She didn't even notice Cedric's worried face or the Twins' calls of "What happened? Who do we kill?"

"Pro-Professor McGo-onagall, I-I'm goi-oing f-f-fo-or a run," she managed between hiccup-sobs. "Wi-Will yo-you ple-ease ex-e-excuse me-e fro-om m-my oth-ther class-ses; I-I don-on't th-th-think I'm in-n the-he r-ri-igh-t state of-f-f mi-i-i-ind."

And she was gone. Not a glance spared to the room, or the startled class in it.

Solemly, Minevera wrote and sent the messages, adn then she looked upon them, the thinnest lips seen since James' time. "Please respect Miss Granger, and try not to spread false statements."

Everyone knew it was too much to ask for them to keep gossip to themselves, being the bunch of thirteen and fourteen year olds they are, but something abut her face told them to at least keep soem fact in the things they'd tell their friends.

Poor Cedric was about to jump out of his seat and ask McGonagall to let him find Hermione, but the door opened and a Harry Potter with two bags over his shoulders trooped in. He didn't seem to see the class, and only focused in on the Professor.

"Where's Hermione?" he demanded, looking rather imposing for an eleven year old.

"Miss Granger will be back by dinner. Return to your class."

"No." The Twins looked rather proud of this statement, and, unseen, James was cheering his son on. "Snape's the reason she's like that, and I refuse to sit in his room for two hours or more as he insults my best friend and my house, along with my father and my lack of family. Where. Is. Hermione?"

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, and it was silent for a moment. "She is safe, Mr. Potter, and that is all you should worry on. I will let you away from _Professor_ Snape's potions lessons, but only for today, and you will sit in the common rooms. Do not roam the school, or you will have a detention for each minute you do."

The class watched with baited breath as Harry gritted his teeth and nodded. They all knew he wouldn't be _caught_ in the halls, but he'd be looking for her.

Cedric heard Anna Graves lean over to her friend and murmur, "Oh, the gossip to be had."

* * *

**1) On like Donkey Kong.**

**2) This is something I can imagine the Dursleys doing to a young Harry. Say he got a teddy bear - I dunno_ how_, but that's not so important - and even if darling Dudders had ten just like it, they'd take Harry's away. Probably in the morning, Harry'd wake up with the teddy in his arms, to Petunia's eyes glaring in the grate/vent to his little room, and next he knew the teddy'd be gone and he'd be punished. And as for his immediate stillness... I just think thats how he'd react. Stunned motionless, and this shock therapy (for lack of a better term) over a long time would make him go all statue-ey after hiding his teddy - or, at this time, Hermione (AKA: Whatever-He-Was-Holding, Whomever-He-Was-Holding).**

**Yea, I know I'm horrible, and this was all filler. Next chappie spans the tests and some James and Lily goodness. I dunno where they went for the most of this chappie, and I feel like kicking myself... But possibly I'll put their PoV on this in a flash back later on... Maybe?**

**Anyways, love to you all. I barely have the time to write, and I got a recurve bow to take up even more of my free time, so I don't much know if there's an update incoming. **

**And, yes I saw the last movie. One word:**

**LOVE.**

**Lawrd, I loved, loved, loved_, loved, loved, loved, loved, loved, loved, LOVED_ it. It's still fighting the third movie as my all time fave, though. But it was awesome, 'cause when we were in the theatre watching it, everybody clapped when Nev did his choppy thing of amazingness, and when Bella keeled over. I think I made a bunch of nerd-friends, too, which made me feel less alone in the world. **

**Oh, and I found the hypothetical father of all my crazy black, white, and weirdo children - he's blonde like me, pale-ish, skinny, blue-eyed, and really tall. Yep, I think there's no genetest needed there. Definitley not. ****Ahh. You've just gotta love Neville. It's my nickname for 'The Father' since none of us actually knew what he was called.**

**And I was so proud of myself when I didn't cry at any time throughout the movie. My sissy did when Snape was sobbing over Lily's not-so-alive body... I had to look away, or focus on his nose, to keep from doing the same. Did anyone else notice that they had a differently dressed Lily for the same scene they'd already filmed? Just a bit of botching I caught, is all.**

**I also couldn't help announcing "MANHUG!" to the theatre when Voldie hugged Draco. It got a lot of laughs, actually.**

**Hmm... What else? Oh, yeah, Harry's total lack of regard for Hermione as he and Ron starting stripping in front of her after they got out of the lake they'd bailed off the dragon in. It disturbed me deeply, Radcliffe's pale, semi-hairy chest. I couldn't even bear (or is it bare?) to glance at Grint's. Thank goodness that Emma Wattson got to keep her clothes on, 'cause I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from rushing out of the theatre to puke my guts out. Ugh. It still make me shudder, thinking about it.**

**Goodness, when we got to the infamous Harmony tent scene, I actually heard someone quite near 'Neville' cheer "HARMONY!" from the back of the theatre. *looks into the distance* I think I'm in love...**

**Well, there's more, but I don't much feel like rambling all of you marvelous readers into a stupor about my various movie experiences, so I'll leave it at that.**

**Love you all. Kyna takes top spot, as always. A note to her: Mum's back. Whoopie.**

**I still uphold my promise to finish by the end of my summer vacation.**

**Thanks for reading, especially with all of my lack of new chappies and neurotic/blonde tendencies.**


	15. That's All, Folks, THE END IS HERE!

**No more chappies for this year! I think...**

**I know I've been horrible, and I'll say it again - I'm sorry. I is a bad Authoress. I is very sorry, Readers. LLLee is not promising that Second Year will come along smoothly at all, no. She is just saying she knowses she has a problem, and LLLee is very sorry. LLLee is also mimicking a House Elf, and her grammer is not _that_ terrifing... Usually.**

**Disclaimer: *pokes pet dragon with a stick* I will sic Poofie on you for asking such an absurd question, kind sir/miss. *Puffy roars and shows teeth* **

* * *

James didn't know how his son managed to survive Hermione's imposed study time, then the testing, and then seeing Ron eat his dinner. Apparently living with Dudley had begun to prepare him for the lattest spectacle. It was a miracle on all counts.

Now it was eleven thirty in the common room, and he and Lily were chatting with Hermione, who seemed so relaxed it was unreal. _Who knew a lack of test pressures would do so much for her?_ James thought to himself, wisely not saying anything to the rest of the world. Who knows what Lilly would do to him. She was almost as protective of Hermione as she was Harry.

"... So Sirius kept laughing and didn't notice where he dropped it, and _bam_ - the toilet was gone. All that was left was the seat, which was actually on the ceiling, like permanent sticking charm'd been cast. Filch blames it on Peeves still, and no one has yet found a way to get it off."

"Really?" Hermione giggled, enjoying the silliness of The Marauders' Third Year Campaign of One-Thirteen, a series of 113 pranks pulled in a single girls bathroom, inhabited by one ghost anmed Moaning Myrtle. "That must've been some powerful magic."

"It was. Well, that ended Number 27 but inspired Number 28: Decorating the Seat. Remus did his studying, and then, since Sirius was the Charms Tech, we had him charm the seat to celebrate the incoming holiday through festive pictures, caroling, the like. Every time there was one, we made sure to have a small Marauder Holiday in the very bathroom, doing whatever it was the season called for - y'know, a tree in the obliterated stall from Christmas, carving pumpkins (the muggle way) for Halloween, having a turkey on that American Thanksgiving just 'cause we felt like it, etc. etc. - for the rest of our school years. It was marvelous."

"_That's_ where you disappeared off to every Easter Morning?" Lily crinkled her freckled nose and reclined farther into the chair (somehow). "A ghost girl's bathroom?"

"Hey, Myrtle really appreciated it!" James defended. "And everyone else avoided her like the plauge, so she deserved _some_ company during the holidays."

"Aww, you really _do_ have a heart."

"Yes, I do. Thank you for finally accepting the fact. I think she's gotten lonely over the years, in fact. Wish we could visit her..."

Hermione's lips quirked. "I could. Maybe next year, on Halloween? I can carve pumpkins and everything."

"You would do that for me?" James made a odd pose, probably meant to be amazingly thankful, but ended up looking constipated. A lot of things James did made him seem that way, actually.

"Sure. I'll even take out my after school dance time for it. Don't you feel honored?"

"Impossibly so." Now he smirked wickedly. "Well, shall we continue on to my personal favorite - Number 29 of TMTYCOT? We were very bored one day, Sirius and I..."

It was half past twelve when Lily suddenly shot up and told them to silence. Then, pointing towards the steps to the boys dorms, she half whispered, "Harry's under the cloak, and the look on his face isn't a good one."

Instantly, Hermione leapt up and barred the way. "Don't you dare, Harry." She acted like she could see him, and looked at about where his eyes should be.

_Why's she looking at my nose?_ Harry wondered._ And, more importantly, how could she see me?_ He decided to stay silent and still in hopes that she would just let him be.

Her eyes narrowed. "Pull off the cloak, please."

Slowly, he did as he was told. "Hello, Mione."

She flicked a smile at him and then sobered up. "You were planning to go after the stone, weren't you?"

They both knew he couldn't lie to her. But he still tried. "... No."

"Yes you were." Both jumped and spun, finding Neville on the stairs. "I heard you muttering about it, Harry," Neville stated, coming down to floor level. "By the way - good evening, Hermione."

"To you also, Nev." She turned her eyes back to Harry, who was fidgeting and trying to 'subtly' sneak away. "You, Harrold, are a total dolt if you think you're going... Alone."

The males whirled to give her a bewildered stare.

("Told you she would," Lily muttered to James.

"I never said any differently, love."

Hermione shot them a 'Shush-Up-Or-I'll-Hex-You' glare quickly. She didn't need them screwing with her concentration. James idly noted that she'd sent them the same glower in the Great Hall during testing when they'd dared to whisper amongst eachother. It worked perfectly both times.)

"No, Mione, you can't. You'll get hurt." Something in Harry did not like that idea, not in the least. "Please don't."

"If I'm not coming, then you aren't." She bestowed upon him the most severe and detirmined look he'd ever been given. "Get it?"

His sigh was nearly silent. "Fine, You can come. But at the first sign of trouble, run away. Far away."

"Only if you do."

He lost the ensuing battle of the wills and resignedly nodded.

"Neither of you are going!" Neville nearly shouted. "I'll - I'll fight you." He made a desperate bid to jump in front of the portrait hole, tripped, and KO-ed himself.

Harry and Hermione shared astonished looks, then took the liberty of towing his dead weight to a couch.

Roughly an hour later, Lily was near hysterics, insistant that she didn't want to see their deaths, and James was trying to both console her and find a way though the black fire that actually barred the foreward movement of the pair. Apparently, it was made to keep all things but air from moving through it. James'd learned the hard way by sticking his pinkie through and (somehow) burning it.

Hermione was thinking on the riddle, not even bothering to aknowledge Lily's breaking down.

Harry was just plain scared and absolutely oblivious to his parents' reactions to possibly being trapped in this little room for life.

"I've got it. Here," she pointed to a small black bottle. "This will get us through. But there's only enough for one."

They shared another glance, one that plainly said all they were thinking. She sighed and nodded. "Please don't die, Harry. Please don't die."

And then she hugged him tight, nearly strangling him. "_Hermione!"_ he gasped, very surprised.

"Harry - you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you."

She blushed and let him go. "Be _careful."_

"You drink first. You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive." For emphasis, she took a long drink of the farethest right bottle, and shuddered.

Harry had never been so anxious. "It's not poison?"

"No - but its like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

James and Lily had no choice but to follow Hermione as she left, snatching the broom in the keys room and flying out to the third floor corridor and past the still-writhing Devil's Snare. She didn't much like flying, so as soon as there was no danger to herself, she opted for instead sprinting as fast as she possibly could for the owlery.

James and Lily were soon very far behind.

"All those morning runs sure benefitted her," James noted, trying to lighten the mood.

Lily barely managed a watery chuckle. It wasn't for another hour and a half that she would be able to really breathe. How could she, when her baby boy was possibly being killed down under the school?

Hermione, however, was nearly pinned to her bed in the Hospitial Wing by Mme Pomphrey after the owlery thing, because the medi-witch wasn't sure she was completely and totally fine, and wanted to check for bruises and the like before -

"Poppy! Potter's been in another near death experience! Where shall I put him?"

- that.

No one noticed Hermione flee (after making sure Harry was going to make a full recovery, of course) in all the commotion. After all, what importance was the Boy's-Wonderful-Lady compared to the afore mentioned 'Boy' - the Boy-Who-Lived? (Or, at least, those were Dumbledore's thoughts on the subject... Little did he know that his little nickname would catch on in later years...)

She felt she needed some time, all by herself, down in the Kitchens. Maybe she'd make some of the bread for this morning's toast, or possibly the dough for rolls. Either way, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. Not tonight.

At eight fifty, Cedric slipped into the room, still in his PJs and not a hair on his head brushed, but looking alarmed and alert. He scanned the room, and visibly relaxed when he found her.

"Hello, Jean."

Hermione didn't look up from the bananna bread she was kneading. "Morning."

"Did you know that the entire school thinks you've died during the night and Harry Potter is going insane looking for you?" he said it nonchalantly, like they were discussing the weather. "I hear the Gryffindors are organizing a search party as we speak. The Weasley Twins are leading it, I believe."

"That's ni - Wait, _what?"_

He cracked a grin, one that faded almost immedaitly. "You just disappeared, and now no one can find you. Potter keeps spouting - between hollering your name down the halls and ripping out his hair when you don't answer - about how you must've 'mixed up the bottles' or something and 'accidentally sipped the poison'. What in Merlin's name he meant by that, no one really knows. We all reckon he's off his rocker, anyways."

She hurried to clean her hands and spell the flour off of her outter robes. Then, she flew out the door, grabbing his hand on the way. Soon enough, he was leading her, off to the place he'd last seen Potter pacing.

No one else was in the hall (to his eyes... In reality, James and Lily were aww-ing over the cute moment and telling her to never do that kind of thing again in equal amounts) to witness Harry tackle Hermione to the floor, incoherrent and emotional, but Cedric, who reclined and carefully assessed the boy before quietly excusing himself to dress and get ready. There were no classes, but he still wanted to look his best.

* * *

George Weasley, ever the smart twin, finally thought to pull out the Marauders Map. On it, he encountered the subject of Gryffindor's frantic searching, quite alive and well, tangled up in what a little tag declared to be Harry Potter.

He flew down the stairs, and yelled out to the Common Room, "Hermione Granger has been found by her Harry. I repeat: Hermione Granger has been found by her Harry. All plans are ruled void. I repeat: All plans are ruled void."

The room was packed to the limit, and people - all in red and gold, split up into teams one through seven for the search for their MIA Gryff - sighed and relaxed. Even if many of them didn't personally know the little first year, all of them were quite willing to go on a manhunt to find her, especially if she'd died ridding the school from Voldemort-Quirrel. Sometimes, the house could be more loyal that the Hufflepuffs... Other times, not so much.

Team Alpha - made up of the rest of the Quiddich team, who were supposed to be tailing Harry to make sure he didn't do anything stupid, and who'd, unknown to the rest, lost him roughly five minutes ago - were the only ones missing. Everyone assumed that they were doing their mission.

"I say, in honor of this occasion (and since Harry Potter will no longer be foaming at the mouth, frantically searching for her), as well as the fact that we have, officially, won the Quiddich Cup, we have a party!"

There were cheers. Yes, it may have been six o'clock in the morning, an unGodly hour to most everyone here, they were all awake and a party definitley didn't sound like such a bad idea.

Fred jumped onto the table next to his twin, going into planning mode.

"The Artists - " (For that was what those in Gryffindor regularily referred to a Dean/Lindsay team up. The mentioned first years looked up for instructions.) " - you're in charge of banners. We need to hurry on them, 'cause Harry and his darling are probably going to go to breakfast, which gives us an hour at best to throw this together.

"Second years - you and the remaining first years will follow us Weasely Twins. You are going to bucket brigade the food we hand you from the Kitchens through designated portions of halls. You athletic boys'll have the misfortune of running them up the stairs, quite sorry.

"Sixth and fifth years, d'ya think you can pick a kid, stick with 'em, and scare the other Houses away from 'em while we do this? Otherwise, we'll get the food taken, or a teacher'll spot us and everyone knows how that'll go down. Prefects from those years, you're charged with music - chose it and don't let Percy dearest go anywhere near it - since it'd look bad if you were threatening other Houses.

"Third Years... How 'bout you scout the halls for teachers? I want two of you posted at the Great Hall for immedaite informing of when Harry Potter and his dearly beloved leave, though. It is imperative we are up to date on the pair's whereabouts. When you meet up with Team Alpha, divert their attention. Wood thinks that 'cause Slytherin is winning in points - "

Everyone pause to mutter curses about Snape before refocusing.

" - that we've lost, and I was already planning some type of a party, so I told McGonagall to tell him we've lost. He spread it to the team, and us marvelous Weasley Twins know the truth - we know we've won the Cup, so no problems. Anyways, keep them from coming back to the Common Room. We want them to be surprised.

"That leaves the Seventh and the Fourth years. I need you to get the Common Room ready (tables, chairs, lights - the whole Quiddich pitch) for a party. Do your thing, and keep it Gryffindor-ey. After all, we're leaving tomorrow, and you remember last month's party, All The Seventh Year's Finally Passed Their Apparation Tests, well enough, right? Well, this is the one for us finally winning the QUIDDICH CUP! And the fact that our resident Brightest Witch of the Age and Boy-Who-Lived are both mentally and physically alive... But more the Quiddich."

Fred looked around. "So, everyone ready? Let's get to it."

Yes, if there was a pair of third years that could manage to order around the seventh years, they would probably be the Weasley Twins. All Gryffindors knew the infamous pair could throw a _par-ty,_ so why not follow their instructions?

* * *

So the year went out with a bang.

The partying didn't stop until dinner, and it restarted the very minute Dumbledore gave Neville the last, worth-fourty-five-heavenly-points gift, making it to where they'd won both the House Cup and the Quiddich Cup. Once dinner was finished, the Gryffindors flew back to their Common Room, and promptly resumed their very loud activities with renewed relish. McGonagall finally told them to cut it out at some where near two in the morning.

On an entirely unrelated note: almost the entire House missed the next morning's breakfast, and a few were almost late for the train.

The following ride was full of hugs and kisses and good-byes and inside jokes and...

"Harry Potter, you fame seeking _arse_!"

... Ronald Weasley having a temper tantrum.

Harry and Hermione were cuddling on a seat after she'd gotten done saying good-bye to her friends from other Houses, James and Lily were unseen and lounging comfortably across from them, and Neville animated about some type of rare flower Professor Sprout had given him to take care of. Ron was throwing his fit in the doorframe, the noise echoing down the train.

"Why'd you take _her_ along instead of me? I could've helped or _something_. No, instead I had to endure Fred and George putting a party together - _for_ _YOU!_"

After that, the yelling started not making sense. Neville was guarding his precious flower and Harry was trying to guard his precious Hermione without her noticing. She was too absorbed in some book, which was a testament to just how used to Ron's ranting she was, and only shifted a little when Harry began blocking her light.

Finally shouting himself hoarse, he left.

Hermione blinked and looked up. "Harry, why are you leaning over me?"

He blushed and scooted back. And then his expression wavered. "Ron doesn't want to be my friend anymore."

Hermione spoke for both herself and Lily, who had said the same thing at the same time:

"Harry, he was never your friend in the first place."

The rest of the ride was very quiet, Neville just filling in the silence with soft talk about his rare flower, and Hermione giving him an ear and nodding occasionally, sometimes elaborating on a thought.

"I'll miss you both," Neville told them just before going to a tart elderly woman with a vulture on her hat. They were gone in a blink, Trevor the toad struggling to escape, as always.

Which left them with eachother. Hermione hugged Harry's arm, afraid of being crushed in the crowd milling around the platform. He was afraid of loosing her, so he just tugged along their trunks (hers apparently having a weightless charm, and thus really only pulling his own) and focused on not letting her get lost.

"Jean!"

Harry narrowed his eyes when Cedric Diggory appeared almost out of nowhere in front of Hermione. He really didn't like it when she let go of him to embrace the Puff. But he consoled himself by pointing out that she hadn't taken but a half a step away from his side to do so.

"Well, milady, I fear this is the end of our year."

Hermione smiled at Diggory brightly. "Where do you live? I might be able to come over... If it's okay with you parents, that is."

"What about yours?"

She ducked her head. Harry heard something that sounded suspiciously like "I hardly think they'd notice." But before he could pounce, she was looking back up at Diggory and tilting her head. "Aren't you supposed to be leaving now, Puff Prince?"

"Actually, I wanted you to meet my parents." A tall, smiling blonde woman and a short, round man stepped foreward. "This is my mum, Elizabeth, and this is my dad, Amos. Mum, dad, this is Hermione Granger, though I usually call her Jean."

Harry stiffened when 'Elizabeth' stooped to hug Hermione, ready to jump at a moment's notice. Hermione, too, seemed rather surprised by the sudden show of affection, and returned it after a small hesitation.

"It's very nice to meet you, Miss Hermione. Ceddy's always written such good things about you. And, no, we wouldn't mind you coming over. We live just outside Ottery St. Catchpole."

Hermione made the calculations in her head, and then nodded to herself. "Do you have a phone?"

"Yes." There was the exchanging of phone numbers and then a relieved Harry watched the Diggory Clan leave. Hermione went back to being wrapped around his arm, and the pair commenced out the barrier.

"So..." Harry winced at how unbearably awkward that one word managed to be. He could also feel the glares of the Dursleys on him, which did absolutely nothing for his suave-ity.

"So..."

He sucked in a breath. "I know I'm gonna see you next year, but I don't wanna say good-bye. Er, well, that not - er - what I mean is - how can - well, I'm really... Yeah," he finished lamely. merlin, he was an idiot.

"Richard Batch once said, 'Don't be dismayed at goodbyes, a farewell is necessary before you can meet again and meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.' Does that work for you?"

"... That about sums it up, yes."

She smiled softly at him and quietly gave a hug. He dropped the handle of the trolley with their trunks stacked on it and wrapped his arms around her.

Minutes later, flushed and clearing his throat even more awkwardly than the 'So...' had been, he let her go and helped her load her trunk onto another trolley before leaving. Uncle Vernon had made a few snide comments on 'The Freak's Girlfriend' (which roused James' temper, 'cause he'd had three quarters of a year to get un-used to Vernon Dursley and now the half-walrus, half-man was both insulting his son and the girl he'd come to look at as a daughter).

"Bye Harry," he saw her mouth before being enveloped in the crowd.

Merlin, he was going to miss her.

* * *

**I'M DONE! HALLEJULAH!**

***people in the neighborhood give author cautious looks, then whistle and try to edge away without her noticing***

**LET ME YODEL IT TO THE WORLD!**

**- Hours Pass - **

***coughs* Okay, well, that's that. I'd done with first year, and my summer has not ended yet. Are you guys proud of me?**

**I've had a few reviewers who've stuck with me from the very beginning. I love you guys, I really do. And this chappie's for you. My other, more random, and all around brilliant reviewers - I adore ya'll too, and the quote's for you. **

**And, as always, this chappie is in equal doses dedicated to Kyna and Mrs. H. **

**This is LLLee, signing off. **

***shouts in the distance declare 'I'M DONE!'***


	16. Year Two's Summer I

**Well, here you are. What If, parts I and II, all in one convienent package. I just couldn't bring myself to change the actual story thingamabob, 'cause it feels like this is my baby - he's only two, you know. Just a little toddler. I couldn't move on to make him a big bro... Not yet. I only want one brainchild, thanks.**

**Disclaimer:**

**"If only, if only," the authoress sighed,  
"The rights to HP belonged to I..."  
JKR stays alone, rich and a mommy,  
While LLLee cries to the moon:  
"If only, if only..."**

**If only, if only, Writer's Block would die,  
****Leedle-Leedle-Lee would be happier than a fresh pie.  
_It won't be long_, she once wrote,  
_'Til I'm as good as Rowling._  
Now that she's learned...  
**_Crap, I'm still stalling._

**So... Ya'll ready? This one is actually (_gasp!_) planned out for the most part, and I don't think I'll get much Writer's Block.**

***knocks on Wood. Oliver Wood gives her weird look and tries to escape***

* * *

Hermione stretched, feeling that tingle in her toes that meant she was about to go into a good dance. Her partner, local muggle Carmen Greave, was an exceptional dancer, even if he was fifteen to her almost-thirteen and they'd been paired for just over three and a half weeks.

She had that same spark with him that she had with Draco. When it came to ballroom, anyways. He wasn't a ballet dancer in any way, shape, or form... But one East Coast Swing with him and she was hooked. With Draco, ballroom was more of a silly, fun diversion. Carmen was quite smart for his age, and could sometimes even manage to follow her thoughts and give comments of his own. It was quite a feat.

"Shall we, Mona?" Carmen, brownish hair sticking up in a way that strongly reminded Hermione of Harry's, extended a hand.

"When are you going to stop using that brainless nickname?" She took it, and they began out to the floor.

Others shuffled away. This pair was well known for intricate steps and you could often learn a thing or two while watching. "Never. It's endearing."

"It is _not_." The female instructor began preparing to put in a random cd. She knew they'd catch on to what it was quickly. "I hate it, and it's an idiotic, _Latin_ form of my perfectly acceptable name."

He pouted, pulling her into a tight closed position. "Don't you like Latin dance? And me? Geddit? 'Cause I'm _Lati_ - "

"You know what I meant, you prat."

"Yes, of course I do. I'm your Latin brother from another mother."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't paraphrase from those American television shows we both know you watch."

A waltz meandered through the air and both were off smoothly. Twirls, dips... Soon, other couples joined in, and there was the effortless look of a bunch of fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen year olds doing what they knew how to do and _enjoying_ it. Times like these made Hermione feel accepted - like she wasn't that freak that turned the school bully's face traffic cone orange, wasn't that weird class brain, wasn't treated indifferently by her parents...

Like these muggles possessed, and used, the best type of magic.

The one that didn't bend the laws of physics, the one that didn't have anything to do with witches and wizards and wands and brooms, the one that made the most primevel sense. A mutual - communial, really - love, passion, and adoration for one thing. Dance. _But not even dance, in a funny little way,_ Hermione mused._ The feeling it brought_.

It was the only way to explain how just a simple beat - _1_, 2, 3 - could change a room of typical teenagers into a ballroom of people displaying emotions rarely seen or felt.

Could make this little place into ten couples moving in complete harmony while never really using the same pattern of steps the next pair was; each seprate but syncronized.

Could create such a profound sense of _us_. _We_, divided and joined, all in our own population-two-worlds that managed to somehow never mix... _Because _they always were mixed. Each little world was mindful of the ones around it, while never leaving their own 'atmosphere'.

How, other than pure, true _magic_, could something bring out such _unity?_ As if they were many parts to the whole; no longer individuals, or couples, or really even people. Just...

"What're you thinking so hard on, Mona?"

Hermione blinked and came back to present. "This."

"This?"

"The - _feelings_ seems like such a dull, insignificant word compared to it... Almost like this, right here, all of us waltzing without a care in the world, is... Ugh, I can't explain it. It's impossible." She gave a frustrated sort of sigh.

"Magic," he expanded quietly. "Like this is magic."

She smiled a bit bitterly. "Yes, Carm. Like magic."

The tune drifted off, and the teachers gave their critisim. Some students' posture was too stiff, others too loose. Some were too close, some too far. Some bent their knees too much, some not enough. Things of that nature.

"Very good job, Mr. Greaves and Miss Granger," Maria Radriquez praised. "You are excused for the day."

They both nodded, letting go of one another and collecting their things. Carmen led her at the door, opening it for her kindly. She was reminded a bit of Cedric and their Kitchen meetings, where'd he'd open the door and tell her (with a bit of a smirk) to 'watch her step'. She still came to the Diggory House every morning just to have breakfast with him and his family, and repaid them with an limitless supply of freshly made bread.

"See you tomorrow?"

Hermione smiled at Will, both internally laughing because this was their own kinda-sorta parting ritual that'd started after day one. "Of course. It's the highlight of my day."

He waved and stepped into his father's car (the severe man gave her a very sour look before almost-but-not-really nodding). They were soon lost in traffic.

Sighing through the nose, Hermione continued along her usual path home. Her day started with breakfast at the Diggory's, then home to run the four miles or so to the main ballet studio, practice until lunch, dine at her favorite little hole-in-the-wall, mom-and-pop restaraunt which was luckily on the route to where the ballroom classes were held, go to said classes on ballroom, and then home to prepare dinner for herself, before some studying and bed. She rather liked this schedule, and really didn't feel like having it interrupted.

Dinner was quiet, as always, and she stored her parents' shares in the fridge before quietly locking up the house for the night and showering the sweat of the day off. After that, she quickly moved through more of the rather short course to catch up on what muggle schooling she'd missed while at Hogwarts.

* * *

The next morning, she woke, dressed, stretched, and showered before dawn. As always. Her parents were already gone to work, a short note about how the roast was a little dry and that she needed to pick up the groceries in the next few days. Her parents were always critical, though, so she shrugged it off and grabbed some floo powder (since Mr. Diggory had so kindly gotten them hooked up to the Floo Network when he noticed how often Hermione already seemed to be over).

"Little Hermione, you're up early."

"Good morning to you too, Liz," Hermione called into the kitchen as she went to store her backpack of dance things into the hall closet. "I went to bed early, so _no_, I am not skiving off my sleep."

"Did you eat last night?"

"Yep. Roast. I have some pork chops marinating in the refridgerator for tonight, so no need to ask."

There was a light laugh from the hallway.

Hermione didn't look up, just shutting the oak door and turning a tad. "Morning, Oli."

He linked his arm through hers and began leading her into the kitchen. "And a good morning - though I really should say _night_ - to you too, Lady Jeanie."

"That one was horrible."

"Yes," he sighed. "I know."

She patted him elbow and took her usual post at the chopping board. Potatoes for hash browns were already at the ready, peeled and washed. Cedric took a seat off in the corner taken up by a rather large table, reclining to watch his mother and his sister-dash-friend-thing-that-way-Harry-Potter-won't-skin-him-alive-for-liking-Hermione-too-much-plus-it-was-just-easier-that-way cook. His father was still asleep, and probably would be for the next hour.

"So, Little Hermione, how was yesterday's dancing?"

Hermione smiled a bit as Elizabeth rolled the sausages around the pan. "Ballet was nice, it's still kinda weird to be in the next age group at times. There's still no one to be my partner, but I don't really mind. Ballroom was interesting. We learned a waltz that changed into a bit of a swing and back to a waltz over the course of a single song. Carm and I had a lot of fun."

"Good, good."

The next hour was quick to pass, and Amos finally forced himself outta bed to peck his wife on the cheek, give Hermione a half-asleep hug, bestow a 'manly thwap' to Cedric's shoulder, and slump into his usual chair at the table. Cedric gave him an amused sort of smile, knowing it wasn't often that he so easily let someone into his home and family, if ever. In fact, Hermione had to be the first to worm her way in...

At seven thirty, Hermione pushed her chair back from the table, going off to wash her plate, and absentmindedly looking out the window. "Who's that?"

Cedric followed her line of sight to the bobbing head of blonde hair skipping up their walkway between the willow garden. "That's Luna Lovegood. She sometimes comes over to talk to my mum since hers died a few years ago. She's very sweet, even if she's a little... Out there."

Hermione nodded to herself, gave her goodbyes, and promised to make some bread tomorrow since ballet began about two hours later than the rest of the week. She was gone before Luna could even knock and offer some of her drigble plums for a pie.

And in her living room, she found something very disconcerning.

"Lily, why are you crying? And where's James?"

"Harry... Petunia tried to stop... Vernon _actually_... To both my son and my sister... And Dudley didn't know what's happening... His own _wife..._" she choked out.

Hermione was getting increasingly worried. "What happened? Lily? Can you hear me? Calm down - deep breaths."

A few minutes of fretting and breathing (respectively) Lily calmed enough to tell Hermione to get on a bus to Privet Drive pronto. Hermione didn't hesitate.

* * *

Petunia bit her lip. Emotions she'd kept bottled up since the news of her sister's death were threatening to pour out, and she couldn't afford the weakness if she was to do what she knew she had to: confront Vernon Dursley.

Little did she know that James Potter was screaming himself to a second death at Vernon just this moment, so impossibly furious the authoress couldn't even make up some type of dry joke or quirky word play to describe it further. How _dare_ he punch his son? And then when Petunia began acting like she had a bakcbone, almost _throw_ her across the room?

A bus pulled up at the end of the lane, and a bushy brown haired girl stepped off, plain green backpack over her shoulder and a very angry Lily on her heels.

"Mummy, are you alright?" Dudley asked quietly, wide eyed at his mother's unusual lack of perfect posture. "You're slumping."

She gritted her teeth and pulled herself up straight. "Mummy's fine, Duddy. Why don't you go to Piers' house for tonight? Hurry, hurry."

He followed his mother's instructions as waddled away as quickly as he could. Petunia steeled her newfound will and treadded over to watch his fat bum disappear around the corner, ignoring how her left knee hurt and the throbbing patch on her shoulder blade. She was quite surprised to see a little brunette girl fly across her lawn, looking half mad, not ten seconds later.

"Are you Petunia Evans - erm, Dursley?"

Petunia was taken aback. "Who are you?"

"Are you or are you not Petunia Evans nee Dursley?"

"Yes, I am."

"I'm Hermione Granger. Where's Harry?"

Getting more and more confused as the seconds went by, Petunia limp/led her into the house and slowly up the stairway. Pointing to the door, she murmured something she couldn't quite remember. 'Hermione' gave her a piting look and helped her back downstairs and onto a couch before barreling into Harry's teeny room.

Hermione whispered for Lily to watch over Petunia before entering, and also paused just a moment to listen to James' very loud ranting in the other room.

"Hermione?"

Harry was flabbergasted. One minute Uncle Vernon's angry over something and punching him really hard, the next Aunt Petunia is flying through the air, and now Hermione, who he thought he wouldn't be seeing for another two months, is storming into his room, hair wild and eyes wilder. What?

"Oh, your _face,_" she cried, wrapping him in a hug that had to've broken a few ribs before flying over to his little bowl of water and taking a random shirt to dab his right cheek. "Does it hurt terribly? How long ago did this happen?"

"Hermione?" He was still having trouble coming to present.

"Harry, are you okay? Come here, turn your head a little. I'm so sorry. How dare he? Oh, I - "

"Wait - Hermione? You're here... In my room?"

"Yes, I got an anonymous tip about you, and now I'm moving you to my house 'cause you _can not_ stay here any longer. I won't let you."

He swallowed thickly. "What happened to Aunt Petunia? I think she tried to stop Uncle Vernon..."

"I plan on bringing her too. Her right knee's been twisted, maybe badly damaged, and her shoulder's been shattered. Even if what I've heard about the woman is true, I won't leave her to stay in a house like this one."

"Won't your parents notice? Or be angry that you've brought two people over?"

Dismissing the matter with a wave of her hand, she went about packing his trunk and periodically checking his head in case the bleeding started up again. "Where's Hedwig?"

"Ron's. I picked the lock and told her to stay there. I sent a letter, too, but there's been no replies... From either of you, really."

"I-I've sent you a lot of letters. I just thought you didn't want to reply."

There was the non-vocal agreement to drop this topic.

"... So... How's your summer been?"

"Fine, Harry. I've got a lot of extra dance lessons, and I've also taken care to return myself to my earlier muggle-schooling standards."

He gave her a curious look, keeping the cloth on his forehead and struggling only a bit to sit up. "You dance?"

"Just a bit." She finished her packing, and paused to listen for any of Lily or James' warnings. Only the dead male Potter's raging tiraide from the other room, so she assumed it was all clear. "Can you stand?"

With minimal difficulty he did, both of them ignored his slight teetering from blood displacement, and reached out for the handle of his trunk.

"I've got it. You grab Hedwig's cage and clean it out in the bathroom; the smell is simply putrid. I need to take a moment with your aunt, there's some matters that need discussed..." He heard Hermione mutter something unintelligible under her breath before hefting the case up and working her way down the stairs.

Harry mentally shook himself and did as she asked, silently agreeing with her conclusion about the scents wafting from his familliar's living quarters.

Meanwhile, Hermione focused on making as little noise as possible as she snuck back into the living room. Lily nodded to her, still looking visibly shaken. Hermione flicked a comforting smile in her direction before turning her gaze to Petunia's form.

"Would you like me to take in your family, with the exception of Vernon? There will be a few rules, but it will be better than this."

"Um... Who are you again?" All of this was just happening too fast for dear ol' Petunia, and her brain was having trouble keeping up. "And how on earth will you manage to accomindate us?"

"I'm Hermione Granger, one of your newphew's best friends. I go to Hogwarts with him. And my family is quite well off, so sheltering a few people until we can press criminal charges shouldn't be a problem." Hermione started when James' voice got to be even louder, chancing a glance to Lily.

The woman tilted her red head. "I'll check on him and fill him in. You're gonna want to be out the door soon. Vernon likes to sit in the back room for, say, a hour before he comes out to act like nothing out of the ordinary's happened. You only have a few more minutes." Her only answer before Hermione refocused on Petunia was a nod.

"Where's your son?" our bushy haired witch demanded.

"Dudley's at his friend's. He knows the drill with this. Tomorrow night at seven-ish, he'll be back. Where do you live?"

"A surprisingly short distance from here. And the house is quite large enough, if you're worried."

"Okay." Shifting awkwardly in order to avoid too much straining on her owies **(1)**, Petunia rose and collected her overnight kit. "Thank you Hermione. But how in God's name did you manage to find us?"

She only got a noncommital shrug as Harry crept into the room. Petunia eyed her sister's only child; unseemingly pale, dark bags under his "as green as a fresh pickled toad" **(2) **eyes, thin as a rail, malnutritioned, and smiling quite broadly (_and_, she admitted,_ empty-headed-ly_) at the frizzy brunette girl towing his trunk.

"Where are we going, love?" he asked, quite obviously meant for Hermione.

Oh my. "Love?" The boy wasn't even twelve and he was calling a girl 'love'? "What do you mean, 'love'?" Petunia gave the two preteens a suspicious look. He must be taking after Potter Sr. - Lily used to complain about the boy's fixation on her and the continual pet names he made up - with this Hermione as the next-generation-equivalent of Lily. Poor girl.

Harry turned a very dark red. "We - erm, she let me - one of my friends said - I didn't think - "

Petunia noted that Hermione didn't seem to be listening at all. The girl seemed, oddly enough, to be in another conversation altogether. This other conversation ended in her jumping and spinning wildly back towards them. "We need to leave now. Vernon's coming. Out, out."

And then she rushed them out the door, glancing over her shoulder repeatedly as she went. Out on the street, two houses down, the angered bellow of the elder Dursley male hurried them along even faster. How on earth did that girl know?

They nearly missed the bus, and it was barely eight when Hermione led them into a lavish home, pointed out their rooms, and told them that they could go wherever they wanted, save her parents' suite.

"I'm very sorry," she said, glancing at a very hoity-toidy grandfather clock placed at the end of one of many halls. "But I really must leave. If I miss today's class, I'm as good as expelled, and that would really suck. Do you guys need anything?"

"No. Nothing. Thanks so much, love."

Petunia almost wanted to snicker at the face Harry gave Hermione without even seeming to notice it. This relationship (or soon to be) seemed quite interesting. Like a non-hatred-fueled James and Lily. But she had the feeling it could get explosive if anyone made the mistake to mess with one or another in front of the other **(3)**.

Instead of the childish giggling, Petunia opted to ask politely: "Will your parents be mad about this?"

"Not at all. They're home barely six hours, so there's a slim chance they'll notice you two. No problems."

Harry gave her another moon-eyed look. "None?"

"None." The girl hugged him goodbye, threw a bag over her shoulder, and nearly flew out the door.

Leaving aunt and nephew in a very awkward silence for the next eight hours. Whoopie.

* * *

**1) Sorry. I just couldn't resist. Just be glad I didn't type boo-boo. **

**2) Anyone recognize this? Please, _please_, tell me if you did. Please?**

**3) That sentence is horrible. I apologize heavily and heartily. **

**Well, aren't you glad I've updated this month? Maybe I'll cut it down to three weeks. I'm still fleshing out the rest of the summer vacation, so three weeks might or might not be a very optimistic estimate. It all depends on Writer's Block.**

**Didja like the disclaimer? I did... Ish... In a week I won't.**

**Now, store Carmen into the back of your mind. You'll recognize him in a few years (... possibly quite literally with how quickly I write...) in a not-so-muggle enviorment. Yeah, I know, you'll forget about him long before he come back, but keep with me here.**

**'Kay. So...**

**I love ya'll, Kyna especially. **


	17. Year Two's Summer II

**I promise you lot, I have not actually fallen off the face of the Earth. It's just been a bit of a wild year. About two weeks after my last update, I jumped sides of the country, was homeless and living out of a kind lady's basement for the next six months, then residing in a small apartment with my sister, mother, and a broken computer, and after that thrown out of said apartment mid-fight with the advice to "go find a foster home that actually wants you", and bounced through roughly three houses in the course of a week while my counselor tried to get the bits and bobs arranged so I could go live out of the earlier mentioned 'kind lady's house. **

**Life's been trying to beat me up, and it hasn't yet succeeded, thank whomever's out there.**

**Anyways, yes. About this dear story. Even though it's been a year between updates, I solemly sware that this story will be finished completely - regardless of timelines, life, and my inability to keep myself from falling up staircases.**

**I love you, dear Reader, very much. Please pat yourself on the back for staying with me and my rollercoaster of madness for this long, and recline back to read and enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Heh. Riiiiiiiiight.**

* * *

"Harry, get up! We're going to Diagon Alley today."

Hermione peeked around the corner and into the guest room he'd mostly crashed in for the last month and a bit, cautious to his plausible state of undress. Deeming the coast clear and her friend semi-conscious, she began off to the kitchen, intent on laying out the leftovers from the Diggorys' breakfast feast for her three new housemates.

Dudley was already down, hovering over the food. He gave her a grunt when he saw her, seeing as it was much too early for him to focus on anything other than the promise of a good breakfast. Hermione'd become accustomed to his inability to show an ounce of class before noon, and was no longer bothered.

What _did_ bother her was the fact that Lily and James had disappeared for the last few days, leaving no trace and giving her no goodbye. This wasn't odd for James, yes, but Hermione could remember very few times that she'd spotted Lily stray from her son for more than a hour... Let alone days.

It didn't bode well with her. However, she could do nothing about it, so she had thus resigned herself to hoping that they would arrive again by the end of the week, which was when they'd have to board the train to Hogwarts.

Thinking of...

"Petunia, have you made enough to purchase that little apartment? When Harry and I leave, I'm afraid that you won't be able to stay."

"Yes," the woman answered, unusually chipper, as she set the plates out on the table. "I'll receive the keys tomorrow."

"Just in the nick of time, eh?"

A thin lipped smile. "Yes. Just barely."

There was a thump from the general vicinity of Harry, then said boy was seen dragging himself around the corner in a bleary fashion akin to that of inferi. Hermione assisted him in navigating to his seat and handed his plate over rather unceremoniously, leaving him to fill it with whatever he so pleased.

An hour later, she and Harry took a trip though the chimney and commenced off to Diagon Alley, then held tightly to each other through the barrage of elbows and people crowding the alley. There was the habitual 'Everybody Clear Out of The-Boy-Who-Lived's Way' and the going got altogether easier from there.

Gringotts was the first stop, followed by a small divide and conquer at Flourish and Blotts (Hermione to find "light reading" materials and drool a bit over Lockheart's good looks, Harry to pick up the essentials, dodge a photo shoot, and usher her out the door when her twenty browsing minutes were up) and a detour to Quality Quiddich Supplies (for Harry's respective twenty minutes of browsing). All the required potions supplies were plucked up at the Apothecary, new robes trimmed and fitted at Madam Malkin's, a brief reprise for a treat at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, followed by a browse through Wiseacre's Wizarding Supplies, and then rounded off by a romp through Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop.

They were about to leave when Hermione spotted something - or, rather, a pair of _someones_ - that had been MIA for the last few days...

Harry gave her an odd look when she stopped dead in the middle of the street, staring blankly into Knockturn Alley. "Hermione...?"

Quickly, she scrambled for a good excuse to follow the two swiftly retreating ghosts, and their bickering.

"Umm, Harry, I think I see Malfoy down there. Wanna... Go see what he's up to?"

Safe enough. Harry had a burning hatred for all things ferrety (Speaking of, how on earth was she going to explain her friendship with Draco to him?... _That's for another time,_ some distant part of her brain muttered, filing the thought away for later consideration.), so telling him that Malfoy was doing something probably illegal down in a shady part of town **(1)** was sure to get his interests piqued.

And that's how they discovered that it was the tendency of anyone possessing the name Malfoy to threaten all those unfortunate enough to be in their vicinity, including the owner of Borgin and Burkes. Oh, and the small fact that Malfoy Sr. had a whole assortment of dark artifacts hidden under his drawing room floor, which Harry immediately relayed to Neville with the express directions to inform his Grandmother and get an investigation underway.

Later that night, after they returned to Hermione's house and settled to divvy up school materials and (for Hermione, at least) fold and carefully file them into their trunks, Hermione excused herself to her room under the premise of preparing to go to the Diggorys' bi-weekly family gathering.

"Lily. James," she called quietly, waiting for them to appear before continuing. "Where have you been?"

James shrugged a little and reclined on her bed, leaving Lily to talk. That seemed to always work out best for them, with him adding comments and observations at random.

"Someone - or, rather, something - has been attempting to stop all of Harry's mail over the summer. We'd gone off to see why. It was a house elf - Dobby, right James? - who swore up and down that she was doing this to make sure Harry didn't go back to school this year."

"He could see you?"

James took this one. "Apparently. But it's only this one that we've ever come across. You're just as much of an anomaly as this Dobby character."

"So," Lily continued, "we had a bit of a chat with Dobby. He won't tell us just what _is_ going on this school year that's so horrible, just that Harry's in grave danger."

"But Harry's always in grave danger, what with the whole Boy-Who-Lived bit."

"James..."

"Sorry love."

"_Anyways_, we're not sure if we should believe him. It's obvious that his intentions are for the best, and he really does believe that Harry's going to run a gauntlet when he returns to Hogwarts, but... Well, he's a Malfoy house elf. And as such, can very easily be under orders to steal Harry's post and keep him out of school for whatever reasons the Malfoy family has."

"And those reasons are overwhelmingly likely to be dark," James concluded. "No offense to Draco or anything. He seems like good kid, its just that he has bad luck in his breeding."

Hermione sighed and began refining her internal To Do List. 'Write Draco' was moved up a few pegs, now hovering just under 'Participate in Oli's Family Dinner'. Whoopie. Just how was she going to put _that..._

_Hey Dray, it's Mimi. So I hear you have one of your house elves stealing Harry's post and attempting to get him to abstain from the wizarding world. Anything to add on that? Oh, and how is your mother's sister...?_

Yeah. This wasn't going to end well. At all.

"Hermione!" Dudley howled down the hallway. "There's people in the fireplace for you..." There was a pig-like squeal. "THEY'RE MOVING!"

She heard the unmistakable whoops of Fred and George Weasley, and had the fore-knowledge that things would end badly. She scrambled out from her bedroom and charged down to the main room, chucking the twins back through the floo with no mercy before shouting a few unintelligible words to Harry and ducking into the fireplace after the two.

She landed semi-ungracefully, but managed to right herself before Harry tumbled through behind her. The Diggory Family Gathering was basically the gathering of all the magical families in the area - namely, the Diggorys, Lovegoods, Longbottoms, and Weasleys - to eat, drink, and keep the bonds tight. It was generally held at a different house every week, with everyone else supplying the food. This type of thing had the tendency to get very out of hand, very quickly.

This time, it was being held at the Burrow, this was the last one before the kids were all shipped out, and mass chaos was basically insured.

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**1: When I re-read this post-type, I thought of something as equally hilarious as it is inappropriate. Just insert a 'someone' in over the word 'something' in that sentence, and have yourself a disgusted little giggle.**


	18. Year Two's End of Summer Party

**Loves, I'm not dead. Thank you for all ya'll's support, be it in the form of reviews or PMs. This chappie's mainly for whimsy and enjoyment. **

**Disclaimer: Ever noticed how each one of these is different?**

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"Hey Nev. Gran in with Mrs. Weasley?"

Neville was hovering near the refreshments, and jumped a little when she addressed him. "Oh, Hermione, hey. Yeah, I think so. The Abbotts are with us this time, and there's this really mean old lady from up the Weasley line. We've got a lot more than normal."

Hermione took a gander around. There was, indeed, a larger number of people crammed into the Burrow than normal. The redheaded population seemed to have doubled, and there was a significantly larger number of persons who generally didn't attend these things. Actually, she didn't recognize most of them.

Harry spotted Hagrid and was soon lost from view. Hermione shrugged a little. Toward the end of the year, he'd become protective to the point of obsessive, and she'd been nearly unable to take it. She understood that Harry'd had very few things in life that he held dear, and as such, he clung to those things with excessive force. It'd taken a very awkward intervention-style-sit-down-thing to explain to him that she was an individual not in need of constant protection, and she knew that he had only the very best of intents in mind, but he needed to let her out of his sight.

She had too many secrets to keep, ones that were far too dangerous to... Anyone, really. It's a basic principle of the 'magic' that sent Lily and James back - tell and have the mortal die while they themselves were forcible removed. And Hermione didn't particularly wish to see Draco torn limb from limb.

That, and though Hermione loved Harry dearly, she wasn't about to go telling him about every waking moment of her day. Neither of them had the patience for that. Nor the time, energy, or emotional capabilities.

The usual Longbottoms were there: Neville, his Uncle Algie, and Augusta (who'd rather greatly surprised Hermione by telling her, point blank, "My Neville's written about you so many times that I feel I know you by now. And my Neville's a good judge of character, so I need not worry if you call me Gran." Neville himself had turned a deep shade of purple and took to watching his shoe laces, and wouldn't explain the little wink Gran'd thrown at him.).

There was a very pale troop in the corner, who were glittering ever so slightly. Her first thought was that they were faeries, but then she remembered a certain type of vampire that'd been mentioned only briefly in a book of Italy's sentient magical beings. She'd heard that there were clans of them world wide, and these two must be some part of one. She assumed, since one of the guys sulking off to the side looked like a photocopy of Cedric, that these were from the extended side of the Diggory family.

Speaking of. "Lady Jean!"

She saw Cedric every day, and yet he always acted as if he hadn't encountered her in years. It was a marvel to her. "Lowly Oliver."

"May I introduce you to my family? You already know Uncle Adonis," she sent a bit of a wave over to said highly attractive uncle, who beamed her a grin that had Mme. Bones sighing. "But over here we have some special imports from America. I assume you know that they're vampires, what with all the reading you do..."

"Get on with it, Oli."

He pulled a hand through his hair, all nerves again.

"This is Uncle Carlie, and Auntie Em..." A thus she was introduced to the Cullens, and felt the need to bash the one that looked like Cedric over the head, because every time she saw him, he was just staring into space all like 'No One Loooooooooves Me... The World Sucks.' and otherwise being the _life_ of the party. He was just a teen, no need to be so self obsessed.

After a few minutes and an intense discussion on the developments in quantum physics in recent years with Uncle Carlie, Hermione managed to make it back out into the hustle and bustle of the party. She spotted Ron pouting by the bacon wrapped chestnuts, his younger sister ogling in the direction of Harry, and the twins, predictably, slipping something into the punch.

She just shook her head and went on her way. She loved the Twins, and they loved her, but that didn't give her protection from their pranks. Even they didn't have protection, let alone she. Thinking of, she needed to give them the new recipe she'd thought up for that Darkness Powder they'd been discussing... Well, at a later date.

Hagrid was sitting with Harry and a few others she didn't know over by the bathroom entrance, which left her a clear shot to the kitchen. Ducking a little and curling in the avoid all the elbows and shoulder blades, she hurried through, slamming into the kitchen at a break neck speed.

"Hermione, dear, you've arrived. Is Harry with you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. He's out with Hagrid. I'm looking for Gran."

"Do you have the..."

"Yes, I finally fixed it."

"How rude you are, Molly!" a new voice snapped from the corner by the hearth. Hermione jumped and turned spotting an ancient woman on a rocking chair, lips curled into a sneer, glaring her up and down. There was a particularly ugly look sent at her ankles.

Hermione caught Mrs. Weasley rolling her eyes a bit. "My apologies - Great-Aunt Muriel, this is Hermione Granger. She is a friend of the Diggory Family, and has become one of ours. Hermione, this is my Great-Aunt Muriel. She's very lively for her age."

"Tch. Her ankles are too scrawny. Her posture is... Passable. And her teeth. I don't even want to look, yet I keep doing so."

There was a bit of a smile and a giggle from Hermione. "That's what my ballet teacher always says." Judging by the looks of those around her, this was not the expected answer.

"Well, your teacher is right. Listen to her better, why don't you?"

"I'll try, ma'am."

"Good." Muriel gave her a bit of an appraising glance, the slightest bit less accusatory, as Hermione felt an arm go over her shoulders. "Is that Harry Potter?"

"Hello, love." Harry completely ignored the elderly woman, who was scrambling in her purse probably for something to get an autograph with. Oh how he despised autographs. "Nev said you were searching for Gran. She went back to the Keep to grab something for your incoming recital. A head band or something... Meh, I don't remember. Been having fun?"

"Yes. You should meet Oli's extended family. Very kind, with the exception of the one actually related to him - Edward, from up his mother's side - but the rest are very lively, if you get my drift. Meet anyone new?"

"Remus Lupin. I think you'll like him. He used to be friends with my father."

And with that, he whisked her away under the premise of meeting this friend of James, Hermione waving half-heartedly over her shoulder on her way out. They bumped into Sylvia Fawcett in the doorway, and there was the usual pleasantries exchanged. Y'know, the one where you've seen this person repeatedly and you're obligated to wave, but when it comes to making an actual conversation, no one knows what to do. Yeah, _that_ type of 'usual pleasantries'.

Meeting Remus was all fun and games, especially when James appeared, and then started pumping her full of inside jokes to 'slip' into their conversation, just to see how he'd react. By the end, our favorite werewolf was a mess of nerves and so terribly suspicious it wasn't even funny. Hermione felt rather bad, honestly.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, culminating in a gigantic wizarding photo taken of all the participants that had Hermione with a most unflattering look as the Twins threw her into the air repeatedly, Cedric and Harry both attempting to get her down, and the two youngest Weasleys having something of a point-and-laugh fest. All was well.

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**Here's a list of (some of) those attending:**

**Longbottoms: Neville, Uncle Algie, Gran.**

**Abbotts: Hannah, Mrs. Abbott, Mr. Abbott, Giffard (uncle), Griselda**

**Weasleys: Molly, Arthur, Fred, George, Percy, Ron, Ginny, Bill (this time), Charlie, Uncle Billius, Great-Aunt Muriel, Grandfather Septimus**

**With assorted extras: Lee Jordan, Mr. Perkins (who is actually a close friend of the family), Hagrid, Andromeda, Tonks, Remus, Susan Bones, Mrs. Bones, Remus... Basically, everyone good and magical on this side of Europe.**

**Lovegoods: Xeno and Luna**

**Diggorys: Elizabeth, Cedric, Amos, Uncle Adonis, Uncle Edward (Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha...), Uncle Carlie and Auntie Em (Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha - *choking* - ha-ha-hack), assorted other undead that participate in that whole clan mentality.**

**Fawcetts: Sylvia (their age), Mrs. Fawcett, Mr. Fawcett**


End file.
